A Taint in the Blood
by Nagiana
Summary: **Full Summary inside** Takes place if Jon did not go to the Wall and instead stayed in Winterfell to marry the girl he loved. Jon SnowxOC Female
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire; the only person i own in my gal Gabrielle, but if I DID own Jon Snow, let's just say that Id be more than happy to keep him warm at the Wall in my own special way ;)**

**Full Description: Jon Snow has finally married the love of his life, a kind yet unlawfully beautiful maiden named Gabrielle Pournell. After being called to court by his father a year after their wedding day, Gabrielle manages to catch the eye of none other than the infamous Jaime Lannister himself. Offering more wealth, power and prestige than the bastard Jon, Gabrielle finds herself caught between the love of her life, and the powerful Kingslayer. **

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><p>They galloped for miles on that faithful winter day, their laughter carrying on the wind behind them as Jon Snow, bastard son of Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell, pulled his horse to a stop. His best friend and betrothed, Gabrielle Pournell, did the same with a laugh and a merry toss of her head. Her long, thick, curly ebony hair fell down to her waist in a cascading waterfall, and Jon felt his heart swell at the beautiful visage of her.<p>

Gabrielle Pournell, the beautiful and only raven-haired daughter of a Winterfell blacksmith, had caught Jon's eye the day he had traveled to her father's blacksmith with his father in order to look at a new batch of swords. He had caught a glimpse of her over her father's massive bellows, and when she smiled so prettily and looked down at the basket of fresh vegetables from the market she was carrying, blush tinging her cheeks, Jon felt his heart leave his chest and he knew immediately that he was in love.

They barely left each other's side since that day.

They quickly dismounted and carefully made their way down a gently sloping hill, where they sat down on a grassy bank by a babbling brook to rest and catch their breath. Their two horses were tethered to a nearby tree, where they could crop at what grass was still living and that managed to poke up from the forest floor. Jon looked down at Gabrielle lying on her back, her breathing ragged, her cheeks flushed from exertion and a grin on her face. The ties to her scarlet red bodice had come slightly undone, revealing her prominent collarbone and the swell of her small, yet still ample breasts underneath her furred cloak. Suddenly, he felt the compulsion to kiss her, to take her in his arms and make love to her on this very bank. He leaned over to kiss her, but hesitated when he realized that she was so lovely to look at and he couldn't bare to disturb the heavenly angel laying underneath him. When Gabrielle finally spoke, it was unpremeditated and her own words took her by surprise,

"I love you, Jon."

Jon froze, his eyes wide with surprise. She was lying, she had to be lying. He was a bastard son, one that's destiny was to be carted off to the Night Watch to live a life of celibacy and vigilance, not to marry and father children with bastard blood. He thought it was impossible for her to love him, much less feel the tiniest bit of affection for him that was not in least bit friendly.

Gabrielle sensed his growing hesitation and gently put her hand on his stubbled cheek. "I said I loved you Jon . . . are you going to say anything?"

Jon opened his mouth to speak but they were interrupted when Jon's powerful black warhorse gently nuzzled the neck of Gabrielle's dapple gray mare, which squealed and pawed at the ground, arching her neck. Both horse's ears were pinned forward, their eyes alight with merriment. They chuckled and glanced at each other before they gazed back at the horses, only to see the warhorse slyly edging over to the mare. Jon and Gabrielle grinned

"She's in heat . . ." Jon commented, almost to himself, but Gabrielle gazed at him as he spoke those words.

"Does it make a difference?" Jon shook his head indifferently and shrugged.

"Not really. It's just really going to be hard to control my horse when he constantly wants to mount yours on the way home . . ." He trailed off, his words meant in a joking manner, but when Gabrielle wrapped her hand around the back of his neck and brought him down, where her lips met his ear, he realized that there was nothing that was going to be joking in her next words. He had to quickly adjust himself on his hands on either side of her as she drug him down to her.

"She's not the only one who wants to be mounted, Lord Snow . . ." She whispered, and Jon gasped huskily as Gabrielle gently bit his earlobe suggestively. She then pushed him away, grinned slyly and hopped up, where she ran over to her mare and hopped up into the saddle. She reined her mare back, for she immediately wanted to gallop off, and grinned coquettishly at Jon, who was still leaning dazed on the grassy bank, exactly where she had been laying seconds ago.

"The sooner you catch me Lord Snow, the sooner you can take me! That or the faster we arrive back in Winterfell!"

Gabrielle then kicked her mare in the flanks and took off at a fast gallop down the forest path. Jon grinned at the challenge and ran over to his horse, where he quickly mounted. He too kicked his horse in the flanks and his warhorse immediately jumped into a fast gallop, spurred on by the chase.

Jon could see the pearl embroidered black cloak of Gabrielle whipping the air behind her as she galloped down the path, dodging low-hanging branches and the occasional pot-hole in the dirt path. Jon's warhorse was snorting after every long-legged stride, expertly dodging branches, fallen limbs and pot-holes without Jon even having to tell him to. Gabrielle's gray mare was fast, but Jon's horse was a warhorse, bred and taught to catch up with the chase and it wasn't long before Jon was hot on her heels.

"Ready to give up yet, Gabrielle?" He called to her over the sound of their horse's galloping hooves, and Gabrielle let out a joyful whoop, tossing her head back and shaking her head.

"What's the fun of the reward, Jon, if you can't handle the chase?"

Jon grinned but it was immediately wiped from his face as Gabrielle unexpectly veered her horse from the path and took off through the forest. Jon watched in shock as she jumped the fallen log and continued on her way. Jon cursed good-naturedly under his breath, and kicked his horse to fallow hers. They jumped the log with ease and he was soon back to fallowing the billowing of her cloak through the air.

He lost sight of the gray mare for a moment before he finally caught up to her, only to see her tethered to a tree in a clearing. Jon grinned as he dismounted his warhorse and tied him to the very same tree by a stream, where his warhorse lowered his head gratefully to the water. Gabrielle was around here somewhere, and indeed her words rang true . . . she was certainly giving him a chase.

He pulled off his gloves as he walked slowly through the clearing. "You certainly are giving me a chase, Gabrielle! How about my reward now?" He heard laughter split through the air but he could not discern where he came from. He glanced back at his warhorse, seeing if he was gazing somewhere in the forest, his ears perked forward, but his head was still lowered to the stream.

"Gabrielle, oh where are you! If we are not home in a few hours, there will be Hell to pay with your father –"

He was interrupted by pale arms wrapping around his chest and a sly voice in his ear,

"My father . . . can certainly wait . . ." Gabrielle whispered in his ear and Jon grinned as he twirled around and took her in his arms, where he kissed her deeply, passionately, their tongues entwining in an intimate dance that either of them had yet to enjoy with each other. They hit the grassy floor of the clearing, her hands buried deep in his black hair and his arms wrapped tightly around her, their legs entwined.

They broke apart for a moment, a quiet moan escaping past her lips before their lips attacked the other's again, their kisses becoming even more passionate. Gabrielle deftly untied the stays to his pants and wormed her hand inside, where she wrapped her hand around his cock. Jon let out a small groan and bit his bottom lip as his lips moved down to make love to the flesh that made up the nape of her neck.

His hand moved inside the bodice of her gown (which he had so expertly been undoing the laces all this time) to cup her left breast, right over her pounding heart. Her breath shortened and he kissed her again, his free hand fallowing suit, where it went to her other breast, her nipples pebbling under his callused palms. A gasp fell from his lips as she stroked him faster, and he kneaded her breasts gently, slowly, her breath quickening. Her hands moved down to grip his biceps.

"Jon –"

"Jon? Jon, where are you?"

Jon and Gabrielle startled apart, their eyes wide with shock at who had found their intimate tryst. They jumped back from each other, both of them moving to quickly right themselves as his half-brothers, Robb and Bran Stark, accompanied by their two guards and Bran's governess, came walking into view on their horses.

Immediately, Robb's eyes lit up with a playful, all-knowing twinkle when he saw the flushed, slightly disheveled look of Gabrielle reclining aganist the grass of the small clearing with Jon kneeling not far from her, but Bran, who was too young to know of such adult matters, simply smiled and nodded towards Gabrielle and his older half-brother. The guardsmen and Bran's governess simply ignored the indecent pose of the two young adults, something which they were wise to do.

"Good mourning Jon, Gabrielle." Gabrielle and Jon smiled a small smile at the second youngest Stark, and Robb nodded a greeting, the same playful, all-knowing twinkle in his eye.

"Brothers, good morning. How . . . how did you find me?" Jon asked, genuine curiosity flitting through his features, and Robb grinned.

"Oh we just fallowed the noises of the animals." Gabrielle blushed and immediately looked away whereas Jon's eyes immediately became filled with anger at the well-hidden insult. Robb's grin grew only wider at the reaction that he had garnered from his brother. Even though they were as close as two friends could ever be, Robb still loved teasing and getting a rise out of the brother that he had grown up around all his life, but was the bane of his mother's exsistance. He was also the only one who knew about Jon's relationship with Gabrielle, and that Jon's greatest dream was that his father would finally give him permission to marry her. Bran smiled at the inside joke, if only to act older than he actually was by acting that he got it.

Robb shrugged. "We were sent to fetch you, actually. Father wants to see you back at the castle as soon as you are able." Jon nodded as he got to his feet, where he immediately reached out a hand to help Gabrielle to hers. He turned to her and shot her an apologetic look. Gabrielle smiled warmly, her hand smoothing across his chest to lay over his fluttering heart. He lay one of his hands on hers, and the look they shot each other was one of longing.

"Just wait Jon . . . our wedding night . . ." She whispered so that only he could hear, her eyes filled with hope, and Jon Snow smiled a small, loving smile and nodded as he gently rubbed her upper arms. Yes . . . their longed for, dreamed-for wedding night. He was confident that his father would give him the okay to marry the only girl that had ever had his heart, and if he couldn't marry her, he didn't know what he would do.

Jon turned back to the group waiting for them, and smiled brightly as they moved to their horses tethered to the nearby tree. "Well I suppose I shall go see what father wants, huh?" He spoke to no one in particular, and everyone knew that he was no in particular hurry to go see his father, but everyone did know that it was just an excuse to get closer to Gabrielle for a few more last minute seconds.

"When will I see you again?" Gabrielle asked him quietly as they slowly undid the knotted reins that tied their horses to the branches of the oak tree. Jon thought for a moment before he answered her,

"I'll ask father today if I can marry you. If he gives me permission, I'll make all haste to your father to ask for your hand," He finally undid his horse's reins and turned to Gabrielle, who had yet to fully undo hers. She turned to face him nonetheless, her expression one of skepticism. Jon gazed at her pointedly, hoping to make her believe him as much as he was trying to make himself believe his own words. His father, although a kind man, was also one of astounding stubbornness. Not-to-mention, if Catelyn Stark had any say in the matter, Jon would not only not be able to get to marry Gabrielle, but he'd surely be sent off to the Wall, where he would say his vows of celibacy with her personally holding a sword to the back of his neck!

"I promise you that I will be with you, Gabrielle! Not even the White Walkers, the Wildlings or my insufferable stepmother will keep me from you!" Gabrielle smiled a small, teary smile and smoothed a palm over his stubbled cheek.

"You must do what your family wills of you, Jon." She reminded him, but Jon shook his head stubbornly.

"No. Gabrielle, I will run away in order to be with you. We'll run to the farthest reaches of the earth, if only it means I can be with you!" Gabrielle shook her head tearfully as she finally finished unknotting her reins.

"You say that now, Jon . . . but if your father tells you that you are to go to the Wall, will you actually do that? Does your family mean that little to you?" Jon recoiled, a look of shock to his face.

"Gabrielle, I did not mean it that way –"

"I know what you meant, Jon, I was only teasing." Gabrielle interrupted him with a tinkling laugh and a gentle smile. She leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. He reciprocated with the same gentleness and lovingness she showed him, their tongues barely touching, and when they broke apart, they _broke_ apart. Gabrielle went in the opposite direction of the Starks, where she mounted her horse and rode off back to town with a guardsman and Bran's governess to make sure nothing happened, leaving Jon alone with an evilly grinning Robb, an oblivious Bran, and two guardsmen that were paid to notice nothing in private conversations.

They rode in silence for a while and garnered a safe distance behind Gabrielle and her escort, when Robb coughed, successfully gaining Jon's attention. "So . . . you explored Gabrielle's deep roads yet?" He asked Jon quietly, and Jon's gaze shot onto his older half-brother by only two months, his eyes wide with a look of infuriated shock that made Robb laughed outright. "Oh, that look!"

"Robb – that was totally uncalled for!"

"No really, you should have seen your face, Jon! Oh, I do wish I had a picture of that look!" Robb kept laughing, despite Jon angry retorts to 'shut up', until tears were falling down his face and he was holding his aching sides. Jon was making a point of ignoring him and it could be said that he was definitely in a brooding mood, which only heightened his exotic good looks. Robb eventually stopped laughing and teasingly nudged Jon in the sides. Jon threw his arm away in a huff, and Robb rolled his eyes, grinning.

"Oh come on, don't be that way, Jon! Okay, I admit it, Gabrielle's beautiful – gorgeous even! She's sweet, intelligent and loves children! She's everything one could want in a wife and mother, and if you don't mind me stating, she definitely looks like she could be a wildcat in bed!" Jon shot him a scathing look, and Robb glared at his brother in something that was almost close to exasperation. "Jon, she's gorgeous, of _course _your going to have men who are going to eye her! You mineaswell get used to it, _and_ learn to keep your sword at the ready! At least until you two have your first child, anyway . . ."

He trailed off then, and reluctantly, Jon nodded.

"Yeah, I know, Robb, its just that . . . we've came close – _very_ close, but always – _always _– something ends up interrupting us."

"Did we interrupt you?" Robb asked with a grin, and Jon shot him another scathing glare.

"_Yes_! This time got us closer than most, actually!"

"She had you harder than a fuckin' flagpole, didn't she, Jon? I could tell by the look of your trousers when you stood up –"

"Fuck you, Robb."

Robb laughed another booming laugh. "Oh come on, Jon, I jest! I _jest_!" Robb placed a hand on Jon's shoulder with his last work, shooting him a semi-amused, semi-apologetic look. "Okay, I'm sorry, I'll leave you alone about her, I promise. Of course, that doesn't mean that the morning after your wedding night will be immune." Jon glanced at Robb.

"Do . . . do you honestly think that father will give me the okay?" Robb nodded confidently.

"Of course! You've always been da's favorite, and once he gives you the okay, Gabrielle's father will be an idiot if he doesn't agree! Bastard son or not, you are still a Stark, Jon, and the son of a very influential, very rich man." Jon nodded as they continued down the forest path to Winterfell.

"Good . . . because I'd kill to marry Gabrielle."

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><p>Winterfell was a huge castle complex spanning across several acres and in which consisted of two massive walls with a ditch between them and a village located just outside. The village was a pretty good size village, with a large market place and whose smiths were famed worldwide for fine weapons and armor. Gabrielle dwelt in the village with her long-time ailing mother and morose father, who was one of Winterfell's finest smiths. The complex itself consisted of many building and keeps, some ancient, some decrepit, and some in good repair. The castle itself was located atop one of the North's many hot springs, which kept the castle warm even in the worst winters.<p>

Right now, though, the heat only made Jon's nervousness worse.

He moved swiftly through the stone corridors to his father's study, his Dire Wolf, Ghost, trotting beside him, panting. He rehearsed what he would say in favor of a marriage to Gabrielle, every step of the way. Even though he doubted his father would turn his proposal down, he was terrified that would be in a mood to do just that. Jon didn't know what he'd do without Gabrielle, and he knew with an absolute certainty, that he would never be able to go aganist his father's wishes. If his father commanded him to go to the Wall and never think of Gabrielle again, Jon would go off to the Wall with no questions asked and no temper tantrums thrown. But being sent off to the Wall without ever seeing her again, would be an agony he could not even begin to imagine, nor describe. He likened it to his heart being torn out of his chest, ripped into tiny pieces and then sown back together again before being placed back in his chest to beat anew. It would be agony living without her.

He finally reached the reinforced wooden door leading to his father's study, and swallowed a heavy lump forming in his throat before he knocked. Half of him hoped that his father either didn't hear him or wasn't in, but his hopes were dashed when he heard heavy footsteps on the other side and the door swung open, revealing a tall back with shoulder length black hair and a beard of the same color. Jon couldn't help but grin at the sight of his uncle, Benjen.

Benjen Stark beamed and moved aside to allow his nephew to enter the room. "Jon, my boy! How are you?" He asked jovially, and Jon nodded.

"Fine, uncle. Um . . . father wished to see me?" He directed his question more at the stoic man sitting at the desk, than the jovial one standing at his side. Neddard Stark nodded and smiled a small smile at his son.

"Yes, I did. It is about –"

"Sorry for interrupting father, but I have to ask you something before it is too late!" Jon all but blurted out, and Benjen and Ned raised their eyebrows in unbridled curiosity as they gazed at the nervous looking Jon Snow. Ned nodded and gestured for him to speak.

"Yes, what is it Jon?" Jon swallowed heavily and shuffled his feet before he finally summoned enough courage to speak.

"Father, I've . . . I've come to bed you for permission for me to ask Gabrielle Pournell's father for her hand in marriage."

A heavy silence descended upon them, stifling Jon more than the warmth of the room was. Benjen was silent behind him and Ned himself looked alarmed at the statement. He opened his mouth to speak but then closed it again, not knowing what to say. Eventually, though, he did speak,

"But, Jon, I thought you wanted to join the Night Watch –"

"I-I know," Jon interrupted him nervously, shifting on his feet again. "But . . . Gabrielle is . . . father, I love her, and she loves me. I . . . don't know what I'd do without her, and I thought I wanted to join the Night Watch like uncle Benjen, but that was before . . ."

He trailed off then, not knowing exactly what to say that would not sound childish or immature, and his eyes furiously searched his feet for the words he needed so desperately to say. He _wanted_ to say that those were his wishes and dreams before Jon had kissed her that night at the Harvest Festival, when they had gone walking by the creek that bordered the forest not that far away from the marketplace and the festival. It had been a shy kiss, their lips barely touching. They had broken away not very long after it had been instigated, both blushing so furiously, that they could see the redness of their cheeks even through the darkness of the night. When he had turned back to speak, to apologize, Gabrielle had grasped his shoulders and furiously pressed her lips back to his. He had kissed her back, putting as much passion in it than she had. He remembered the softness of the young spring grass underneath his palms as she fell back aganist the grass, him falling to support himself on his hands above her. It had been the first time he had ever made out with a girl, and ever since then, they had been nearly inseparable.

Ned waited patiently for Jon to continue, and when he did not, Ned stayed silent. His face was expressionless as he observed his son, and Jon felt his heart fall down into the pit of his stomach. His breathing got heavier in order to match the frantic pounding of his chest and he would have fallen to his knees if Benjen did not rest a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Ned . . . give him permission." He told his brother gently, and Ned and Jon both turned their gaze up at Benjen in alarm. Benjen nodded to tell them that he meant what he said, and Ned opened his mouth to speak,

"But Benjen! Jon gave you his _oath_ that he would join the Night Watch when he came of age –"

Benjen chuckled, successfully interrupting his older brother, and he shook his head. "We all know what it is like to be in love, Ned. You and Catelyn have it, just like I had it with Petronia. Everybody deserves to feel that love, and if, for whatever reason, this Gabrielle dies like Petronia, then I will more than welcome Jon into the Night Watch. But as long as he is in love, I will not take him. I do not have the heart cold enough to separate two young lovers." Jon gazed up at his uncle in unadulterated thanks, and Benjen smiled back down at him. Jon turned his pleading eyes onto his father, who sighed and looked away, thinking. Benjen's gaze darkened. "Ned . . . need I remind you of Whylla?" Ned's gaze shot onto Benjen's, and Jon immediately knew who they were talking about.

They were talking about his mother.

Ned then turned his eyes back onto Jon and then, after a moment, he nodded his head. Jon broke out into a grin and felt like jumping for joy, screaming his joy from the rooftops, but managed to refrain himself.

Ned eventually smiled a small smile and chuckled. "Benjen is right . . . I cannot deny one of my son's, his love. Go . . . go demand ardently for this girl's hand in marriage and then come back me with the answer. We'll plan the wedding date then." Jon grinned and bowed.

"T-thank you, father!" He turned to his uncle Benjen, who smiled kindly. Jon nodded in his direction too. "And thank you, uncle." Benjen nodded back and gave his nephew a one-armed hug.

"Your quite welcome, my boy. Now go! Before anything happens!" Jon nodded and obediently ran for the door, where he opened it and ran down the corridor towards the entrance hall. Benjen closed the study door behind him, and the two Starks chuckled.

"You've always been a sucker for romance, haven't you, Benjen?" Benjen shrugged at his father's words.

"Oh and you haven't? I remember it like it was yesterday, Ned! You chasing after the exotic, black-haired Whylla so ardently, that it was almost like Catelyn and you wasn't even married! You fell so hard for her, Ned, and when she became with child . . ." Benjen trailed off at seeing the expressionless look on Ned's face, and Ned sighed and looked away.

"That . . . was a long time ago, Benjen. Whylla has surely moved on by now. She's probably forgotten about her son and the man who used to love her." Benjen scoffed as he crossed his arms in front of his chest and looked away.

"You know that's probably not true, Ned! Whylla loved you like no other, and you were the same with her! When Catelyn sent her away, she screamed and howled for you, but of course, you were away with Robert, so you couldn't answer. I'll remember her screams of agony till my dying day." Benjen stayed silent for a moment before he spoke again,

"I know you have a cameo of her that your keep in your pocket all the time, and no mother alive ever forgets her child. Believe me, she knows of Jon and she will never forget him or you!" Ned glanced at him.

"I just want my son to never have to go through what I went through with him and his mother." Benjen smiled weakly.

"He won't half to, Ned. Not anymore at least."


	2. Chapter 2

"Gabrielle, girl, go help your mother with dinner!"

Gabrielle, who had been waiting anxiously outside the smithy for Jon's return, heaved a sigh of sadness as she stood and brushed the dust from her skirts. She turned back towards the smithy that eventually led to their home, her heart heavy with sorrow. She had known immediately after Jon had told her that he would go to his father first for permission, that the Lord Eddard Stark would deny them. He was probably on his way to the Wall now, as punishment for ever even thinking that they could be married –

"Gabrielle!"

Gabrielle turned around, one hand on the doorway leading to the smithy, her eyes searching the crowd for the person that had called her name. Her eyes eventually fell onto Jon struggling to reach her through the milling crowd and her face broke out into a grin at the sight of his beaming face. He had done it . . . his father had given him his permission!

Gabrielle picked up her skirts and ran to him, where they fell into each other's arms, embracing tightly. "Have you done it? Are we free to marry?" Jon nodded as they broke apart, her hands moving to smooth over his stubbled cheeks. He leaned into her touch and nodded.

"As soon as your father gives his permission, We are to go back to my father, where he will set the date! We're almost there, Gabrielle!" Gabrielle grinned and nodded as she grabbed his hand and pulled him into the smithy, where he father was working away at the bellows, forging a sword and shield for a new town guardsman. Manfred Pournell glanced behind him and upon setting eyes on the giddy Gabrielle and Jon, smiled warmly and stepped away from his bellows. Upon wiping his hands off with the rag tucked inside the belt of his pants, shook Jon's hand after bowing.

"My Lord Snow . . . what brings you here? How is Lord Stark?" Jon nodded.

"My father is well, but . . . he is not the reason I have come. You see, I have come . . ." Jon smiled at Gabrielle as he took her hand. "I have come to ask for your daughter's hand in marriage." Manfred Pournell nodded as he leaned back aganist the nearby wall.

"That's all good and well, my Lord Snow, but you see . . . Gabrielle is my only child. She is very dear to me and her mother. I'm just concerned over how she will be treated if she were marry you."

"My good ser, Gabrielle will be treated like a Queen! She will be Lady Snow, and well loved! She will be want for nothing and be given the finest gowns, jewels, everything her heart could desire!" Manfred nodded again.

"What about you, Lord Snow?" Jon grinned and chuckled as he took Gabrielle's hand and brought it to her lips, his gaze never wavering from hers.

"I love her. I would never hurt her. She will be the only woman to ever share my bed, and I promise that, that love will never waver!" Manfred smiled warmly at his daughter.

"Its all up to you, daughter. If you know his heart and if you truly want him, then you may marry him. All we want is your happiness." Gabrielle broke out into teary grin as she lunged at her father, her arms wrapping around his neck.

"Oh thank you, father! This is all I've ever wanted!" She cried, and Manfred hugged her tightly, not saying a word. Jon waited patiently until they broke apart, and then grinned as they broke apart and Gabrielle returned to her place beside him. Jon grasped her hand and after shooting goodbyes over their shoulders, the two ran from the smithy and up to the castle, once again to return to Ned Stark.

* * *

><p>"You <em>what<em>!"

Ned Stark pressed his fingers to his temples, where he massaged them gently. Catelyn stood in front of him, her hands balled into fists at her sides and her face red with anger.

"Catelyn, he deserves –"

"He deserves _nothing_!" Catelyn shrilled at him. "A bastard son does not deserve a marriage, Ned! Especially to a girl of such beauty and breeding as Gabrielle Pournell! What if I wanted her for a marriage to Robb? Huh?" Ned turned his eyes onto his wife.

"You what?"

Catelyn's head rose in defiance. "You heard me, Ned. I had wanted the girl for Robb. It would make a good match. Robb needs a wife and Gabrielle is young, beautiful, nubile and no doubt fertile. Better to marry her away to Robb than an illegitimate bastard son." Ned's jaw hardened and his eyes flashed with anger.

"They love each other, Catelyn, and besides, I have already given him permission."

"Then revoke it!"

"And cause the ill will of one of my sons?" Ned asked her in disbelief. "I love my children, Catelyn, all of them, including the ones by you, _and_ Jon! All of them deserve to be happy, and that includes Jon! If he is perfectly happy being married to Gabrielle, then by all means, I will allow it! Robb will choose a woman that he loves as his wife, and if he doesn't, then we will marry him off to a Lord's daughter. It is not the end of the world!" Catelyn gazed at him like she would like nothing more but to tear his throat out. Her anger must have wearied her, for eventually, she calmed down and put a hand to her head.

"Fine then . . . when is the wedding?"

"I don't know yet. Jon told me –"

He was interrupted by the pounding of feet on the marble floors of the castle, and the door to his study was thrown open, revealing Gabrielle and Jon on the threshold, broad grins on their faces that were immediately wiped away when they caught sight of Catelyn Stark standing above her sitting husband, both of them looking weary. Jon was the first to break the silence.

"Uh . . . should we come back?" Ned shook his head and stood, where he smiled warmly at Gabrielle.

"Nonsense! Come in, come in! You must be Gabrielle?" Gabrielle nodded and curtsied, her eyes downcast modestly to the floor. Catelyn scoffed in slight disgust as she crossed her arms in front of her chest and looked away. Ned shot her a warning look as he moved over to his son, where he gave him a one-armed hug like Benjen had done.

"I take it that her father has given his permission!" Jon and Gabrielle both nodded, and Ned grinned.

"Wonderful! Now all we have to do is prepare for a wedding!" Catelyn glared at him.

"Before or after the King and his court come?" Ned glared at her.

"Before, of course. I wouldn't dare greet the King and present my children without first presenting Jon and his new wife!" Catelyn's teeth gritted and Jon could tell she was getting angry again. "A week should be enough to prepare everything in time for the wedding, and then whilst they are spending the fallowing week to themselves, we can get Winterfell ready for the arrival of the King and his court." All three could tell that Catelyn abhorred this idea, but all knew that she dared not speak her displeasure over it while her husband was so for it. Eventually, a tight smile appeared on her face and she nodded.

"Sounds wonderful husband. I shall inform the maids and the noblemen of Winterfell right away!" Catelyn Stark swept from the room then without barely nodding a goodbye towards Jon and Gabrielle, and Ned rolled his eyes as he moved back to his desk.

"Don't mind her, she's just had a difficult day. Now, I daresay we must have some chambers readied for you, Lady Pournell, and some gowns made," Ned grinned then. "For it is indecent for the bride and groom to share the same bed before the wedding." Gabrielle blushed lightly and Jon laughed.

"We'll inform the maids father. And please . . . get back to us as soon as you can over the date of the wedding." Ned nodded and smiled warmly.

"Of course. Now go, have a good day and celebrate!" Jon and Gabrielle nodded and grinned as they moved from the room, hands clasped. Ned smiled a half smile and chuckled as he reached in his pocket and withdrew with a beautiful white shell cameo of a beautiful woman with long black hair, an exquisitely cut angular face, and the most beautiful brown eyes ever seen on a woman.

"He's growing up, Whylla. You'd be proud of him."


	3. Chapter 3

**I had a lot of fun with this chapter, speaking its the wedding/wedding night chapter, and I must say that it contains some (well actually just two, maybe two and a half) pretty juicy lemons :)**

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><p>The wedding of Jon and Gabrielle was sure to be a grand affair. The Great Hall of Winterfell Castle was made up beautifully for the feast after the ceremony, with rich tapestries that were hung on the stone walls for color, and with the most delicious smells that wafted up from the kitchen for the wedding feast. Musicians from all over Westeros was brought to the wedding to play at the feast, as well as fools, poets and actors. The younger Stark children were all aflutter leading up to the wedding, excited at seeing how beautiful Gabrielle would look and how handsome Jon would in his wedding robes. Robb was happy for Jon, but after hearing from his mother that she had planned for Gabrielle to marry him, he had distanced himself from his half-brother somewhat. Sansa was also not throwing a big fit over the wedding, preferring to wait for her own, which she was determined to believe would be greater and even more beautiful than her half-brother's. Jon and Gabrielle didn't care how big it was, all they wanted was to be married in the eyes of the Old Gods.<p>

The ceremony went by flawlessly, starting with the procession from the Castle to the Godswood in the Winterfell forest, and ending with the entwining of the Golden Thread that was wound around their clasped hands by the Greenseer. It was a symbol of the Goddess Mara, Goddess of Marriage, Fertility and Mother of All Nature, and it was meant to be the good luck charm of a long, healthy, and fruitful marriage.

The vows were sealed with the Kiss of Everlasting Love, and then the solemn procession moved back to the castle, where they were immediately showered with almost boatloads of colorful confetti and deafening cheers. They embraced, both beyond beaming and neither could wait until the faithful wedding night.

The wedding party was a joyous occasion, full of dancing, laughter and overall good will and mirth. Even Catelyn Stark, who was never joyous about the marriage in the first place, laughed and clapped alongside the rest of them when the actors were throwing their Comedy and when the fools tripped each other on their mad haste to present a flower to the bride.

When the musicians finished their meals and moved to gather their instruments to strike up a lively tune, almost everyone made a mad dash for the dance floor. Even Jon, who never had a penchant for dancing, grinned and grasped his bride's hand, where he pulled her onto the dance floor. They struck up a waltz alongside the rest of the dancers, their mirth almost contagious.

"I am so happy, Jon! Finally, we are married!" Gabrielle spoke joyfully, and Jon grinned as he brought her closer to him, where touched their foreheads.

"You are like a blooming rose amongst a bed of weeds and daisies." He murmured to her, and Gabrielle grinned as she leaned up and kissed him on the cheek.

"I thank you, so much, Jon! Now, come, dance with me!" Jon grinned.

"My darling, beloved wife . . . I will dance with you until your pretty little feet fall off if you wished it of me!"

So that's what they did. They danced and danced and danced, twirling and waltzing and pirouetting alongside the music and the other couples until they were both short of breath and red of face. Their laughter never faded and for a moment, all of Gabrielle's worries and troubles were forgotten. She was happy, and nothing could rob her of that happiness. She was a young, beautiful girl with her whole life ahead of her. A girl with expensive gowns and beautiful jewels and with the most loving, wonderful man as a husband.

After their sixth straight dance, Gabrielle grabbed Jon's hand and with both of them laughing, pulled him from the dance floor. They plopped back down at the royal table, and Jon collapsed against his chair, breathing hard, his chest heaving. Gabrielle grinned and let out a wheezing laugh as well.

"I think we need a drink!" She raised a hand to a passing servant, who nodded and curtsied before he went off and returned with two goblets of wine. Jon emptied his with two deep gulps and set the empty goblet aside on the dining table in front of them. Gabrielle grinned at him over the rim of hers and gestured to the dance floor.

"I think the children are having fun!" She told him, and Jon grinned as they watched Arya, Bran and Rickon Stark twirling around on the dance floor in front of the musicians, hands clasped and broad grins on their faces. The musicians gazed down at them in amusement as they played, and they looked to their left and watched and Ned and Catelyn grinned and clapped as they watched their children. Robb was grinning and laughing with a petite blonde maiden on the dance floor as they danced with the other couples, and Jon grinned, glad that his marriage to Gabrielle would not put him at odds with his friend and brother. Sansa, however, was sitting with Old Nan on the other side of the table, looking incredibly bored. Ned grinned and Gabrielle tsked.

"I feel bad for her. Everyone else is having such a good time, and yet . . . she is not." Jon sighed and shook his head.

"Don't feel too bad, she's always been that way." Gabrielle turned to him and took his hands, where she kissed him gently. He grinned as he kissed her back, and when they broke apart, he saw a slow, lazy spread across her beautiful features.

"Why don't we go have some fun ourselves?" She murmured to him, and Jon nodded and grinned as he pressed another kiss to her lips.

"Be right back. I'm going to go tell da that we're leaving." Gabrielle nodded and watched as he stood and moved swiftly over to his father, where he touched him gently on the shoulder and murmured something in his ear. Ned grinned back and nodded, a scowl gracing Catelyn's features, but as she watched Jon returning to her and felt the stirring of desire in her stomach, Gabrielle realized that she didn't give a damn was Catelyn Stark thought.

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><p>Jon's chambers had been perfectly prepared for the wedding night. Softly lighted candles were placed artfully around the room, casting lazy, shifting shadows here and there, giving the room an ambiance that could not be achieved normally. The bed was made up in the lushest of red and gold sheets and feather down, adding even more comfort to the giant four poster bed.<p>

After washing up and brushing her hair into a smooth sheen at the mirror hanging on the nearby wall, she felt Jon's arms fold around her waist, bringing her flush aganist his front. His lips connected with the nape of her neck and she let out a low moan as her head lolled to the side, giving his lips even more skin to make love to.

She vaguely felt herself being picked up like a groom would pick up his bride, and without their lips disconnecting, he carried her to the bed, where she was placed gently upon it. His tongue darted into her mouth, their tongues entwining in a sensual prelude to what was about to come, and Gabrielle felt herself groaning at the prospect.

Oh Gods . . . it was so slow, so languid, and so intense! She thought he might burn a hole through her with his tongue. His hand curved over her bead-sheathed hip and he pulled her against him, grinding into her, his arousal evident through their robes. Her heart rate sped up and she fought hard to control her breathing. Oh Gods, oh Gods . . . oh _Gods_!

That nameless taste – that taste that was Jon – was in her mouth again, tightening the coil of desperation and need slowly coiling in her lower stomach. Her hands scrambled over his torso, gripping at his strong shoulders and tugging his shirt from his pants after she pushed their robes off their shoulders.

Jon growled into her mouth, causing a pleasurable shiver to coarse up her spine. He was pushing so hard aganist her. There was an intense knot somewhere deep in her gut and at her core, and she writhed in the small space he allowed her in order to relieve the ache.

The dress and beaded belt had bunched up around her legs and the scratchy fabric of Jon's breeches rubbed aganist her inner thighs as she ground her core hard against his leg. The friction – the barrier – was maddening. She bit his lip in frustration as he quickly tore the dress and belt over her head a split second before she removed his shirt, and the articles both went over the side of the bed into dark recesses unknown to them. She quickly undid the stays to his breeches and pushed them down as far as she could, before he kicked them off.

Her arms came up to wrap around his bare back in an embrace, and he nudged her thighs apart with his knee. He moved up, sliding between her legs, bare skin to bare skin, something breathtakingly erotic, and a sensual prelude of what was soon to come, yet again. His head bent down to kiss her and everywhere he could reach. His lips were tantalizing and sweet from the wine they had drunk earlier after taking a break from dancing.

And all the while he was kissing her, his hard, heated length nudged at her throbbing center, fierce and insistent. He soon pulled her beneath him, slid inside her the tiniest bit, and then stopped. He let out a low growl at the infuriated look in her lust-filled eyes, and his head bent again to capture her mouth. Even while he kissed her, his hands were skimming her sides, fingers moving up her arms and then her stomach, her rib cage. Cupping her to pull her up and into him so that she could feel every inch of him aganist her.

She pressed a kiss aganist the hard line of his jaw, then his throat, savoring the heady taste of him, the masculine smell and strength that was so arousing. Her hands drifted over him, over the broad width of his shoulders and his well-muscled chest and pectorals that spoke of many hours in the training ring with a sword. She grazed the hard ridge of muscles banding his chest and belly in a gentle exploration. She could go no lower, for his body was wedged tightly aganist hers; a solid pressure that was hot and soft and hard all at the same time. His hands were pressed deeply into the mattress on each side of her as she investigated him and his weight balanced over her. He made a low, guttural sound as her hand moved lower into the heat between their bodies, and he closed his eyes and took a shuddering breath.

She ached for him. Her thighs were spread wide, cradling him intimately. Her skin tingled with expectation and a reaching for something just beyond her grasp and she knew that he held the answer. His head bent. He found the sensitive peak of her breast and his lips closed around it, tugging it lightly. His hand moved, fingers seeking, stroking her, making the throbbing ache worse. She could barely breathe, could only arch upward, wordless and dazed, whimpering softly, begging him for more.

He kissed her again, more fierce and insistent this time. He moved up, his body a hard, exciting promise. He surged forward, making her gasp softly at the slight ache as he filled her, his eyes holding hers.

Yes, yes, she was his. Only his. Oh, Gods help her, she couldn't think when he was with her like this, could only feel, only react, as if she were swept away by a whirlwind of emotion. And the aching emptiness inside her, that small secret hope that she'd thought long dead, slowly began to come back to life.

She moaned and held onto him. A long, shivering stroke, a quiver as he held himself there, then he dragged away and thrust again, slow and luxurious pleasure, aching need and hovering promises, faster and faster until she was caught up in it and answering his thrusts with her own, legs wrapping around him and clinging, head thrown back, hearing his wonderful husky groans in her ear meld together with her load moans, as time shattered and careened around them in a spinning arc.

And then there was peace. Peace and contentment, a blissful rest.

Jon's arms that were holding himself up over her, suddenly started shaking and he gently fell on top of her, where he kissed her languidly. He gathered the tired, limp and extremely sated Gabrielle up in his arms and made down the covers, where he slipped both of them inside.

Gabrielle laughed huskily and leaned up on her elbow, where she ran a hand down Jon's muscular chest and stomach. He was tired, she could tell, for his eyes were heavily-lidded and he was fighting the urge to go to sleep. His chest and stomach quivered underneath her touch and alongside fighting the urge not to go to sleep, he also fought the urge to not get aroused again. Gabrielle only grinned and drew her hand down lower, where her elegantly shaped hands wrapped around his cock. It immediately swelled in her grasp and Jon groaned good-naturedly as she started slowly stroking him, her lips moving to press aganist his.

"I'm starting to think that your not as sweet as I thought you were . . ." He whispered to her teasingly, a grin gracing his features, and Gabrielle grinned and bit her bottom lip as she released him and straddled him.

"Its just that I've waited _so long _for this to happen, Jon, and I . . . well I thought I'd service you . . ." She answered him and he bit his bottom lip back.

His hands were at her waist, drawing soft circles into the flesh above the spot where her hip bones poked through the bronze, flawless flesh, and a grin graced his handsome features when he realized that he couldn't take it anymore. He rose Gabrielle up and quickly sunk himself far within her dripping folds. Gabrielle's mouth fell open in a silent gasp and she heard him let out a hiss, and it wasn't until that very moment, that she couldn't imagine herself being anywhere else right now except curled inside Jon's arms.

Gabrielle threw his hands off of her as her hips rocked against his, and they moved to clench into the bedsheets underneath them. She scratched and fought him stroke for stroke like the cruelest, most ruthless enemy he had ever faced. The soft mattress and silken sheets underneath them, pressed into Jon's back and ass as his hips rolled to set the feverish pace for her since she wouldn't allow his hands to do it. His warm fingers dug into the sheets and he closed his eyes in bliss, hopelessly praying that this would be what dying felt like.

Shh, Gabrielle!" She heard him whisper with a grin after she let out a particularly loud moan, and she felt the press of his mouth and delving tongue into her own. He gladly swallowed her sounds when a loud whimper escaped from her throat. He groaned low and breathlessly whispered for her not to stop when he felt her fingers run circles over his chest. His own hands snaked their way under the sheets, tickling down her back and gripping her ass to make her accept as much of him as he could fit.

Her thighs spread further all their own when his thumb began to massage the wet, neglected kernel budding from the apex of her folds. Trying desperately not to lose control of her body then, Gabrielle bit down on her bottom lip and tried to shoo away his hand, but he just smirked, continuing to pluck it gently with his fingers. As much as she tried to resist, he could feel her climbing with him and he was going to enjoy seeing her scatter to pieces all over his lap like the petals of a freshly crushed flower blowing away in the gentlest breeze. Sitting up, he buried a hand in her long ebony hair and pulled her head back, nuzzling his face in her throat as his other hand worked diligently. Cheeks red from exertion, her closed eyes suddenly tightened as the warmth in her belly finally exploded and she clamped down on him, her arms tightening about his naked shoulders as she cried out his name to the heavens in a keening cry.

All form of thought escaped Jon, snagging his breath in his throat as he blissfully followed her glorious ascent with his own, his eyes seeing stars and a bright white light. After a moment, Gabrielle slouched against his chest, his arms around her, barely holding her up while he proceeded to apply tender love bites along her jaw. Releasing her hold of his neck and shoulders, she allowed the pads of his fingers to rub circles over the two little dimples in the small of her back.

"I'm pretty sure I'm ready to sleep now . . ." She murmured as she buried her face in his chest. Jon grinned and laughed lazily as he nodded.

"I agree."

Gabrielle smiled a small smile and kissed him gently on the cheek before she laid down beside him and put her head on his chest, where they both fell into a dreamless, blissful sleep, his arm wrapped around her in a comforting, protective embrace, and his seed moving swiftly within her womb.


	4. Chapter 4

**Okay, I realize in the last chapter, that I did not include the half lemon that I promise to go along with the last two. So . . . here it is! LOL. I promise that the next chapter will be a lot more serious because I'm not the type to write just smut stories, even though they are insanely fun to write, especially when you have two gorgeous men like Jon and Jaime Lannister to play with :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own A Son of Fire and Ice, nor the HBO TV series, Game of Thrones. That's probably for the best, because if I did own Jon Snow and Jaime Lannister, I probably wouldn't have the time to write ;) **

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><p>Gabrielle awoke the next morning to Jon's side of the bed empty and a servant woman with graying red hair sitting in a chair by the fireplace doing needlework and humming softly to herself. Gabrielle sat up groggily, clutching the furred bedcover to her naked breasts, where she ran her fingers through her messy black hair. The servant woman noticed almost immediately, and smiled warmly as she placed her needlework aside on the nearby stool and stood, where she curtsied deeply.<p>

"Good mornin' milady Snow. Did you sleep well?" Gabrielle nodded vaguely, and she looked around the room, seeing what looked like a freshly made breakfast sitting on a table not far from the bed. Her stomach grumbled despite herself, and she blushed a little. The servant woman noticed and chuckled warmly as she removed the lids of the plates, revealing fresh eggs, toast and bacon.

"It is perfectly fine, milady. Most couples are famished the first couple of mornings after their wedding. Your Lord husband himself ate quite a bit when he awoke," She chuckled a little, an all-knowing twinkle in her brilliant green eyes. "Almost like a starving man finally finding food. But it is good that your husband has a hearty appetite! That means strong sons! My name is Maharet by the way. I have been sent here by Lord Stark to become your first Lady-in-waiting." The woman named Maharet assured her, and Gabrielle smiled at the mention of Jon, immediately feeling a dull, pleasurable throb start in her lower stomach at his name. She smoothed her hand down her hair and smiled.

"Where is Jon?" She asked her, and the servant woman looked down, a small smile gracing her features.

"My Lady's husband is down in the courtyard with Lord Bran. It is their thrice weekly archery lesson, if I remember correctly. He did not wish to wake you – you were sleeping so peacefully, you see – and he said that he would be up later after the lesson to see you." Gabrielle nodded, acutely aware of the old Westeros tradition that a bride was not to leave her husband's rooms until three days had gone by. These three days after a wedding ceremony, especially to those who revered the Old Gods of the Forest, looked at these three days as the best time to conceive a child, speaking the spirit of the Goddess Mara was thought to still be fresh within the bride's womb, making her especially fertile during these days.

Maharet moved over to the armoire sitting in the corner of the room, where she opened the doors and started rifling through the clothes to find a suitable dress. "What would you like to wear today, my Lady?" Gabrielle shrugged.

"Just . . . hand me my robe for now, if you will. I wish to eat first, and then I'll decide what I want to wear."

_Not that Jon probably won't be tearing it off me when he comes back to see me . . . _She thought, giggling slightly, and Maharet smiled and nodded as she curtsied. She picked up Gabrielle's new silk red robe edged with white ermine and handed it to her. Gabrielle pulled it around her while she was still sitting in the bed before she stood, tying the sash firmly around her waist.

Gabrielle sat down at the table, where she immediately dug into the food, realizing how hungry she really was. Maharet gazed at her wolf down the food in amusement as she sat back down and picked up her needlework. "I remember my first wedding night. I hardly got any rest, which, judging by how hungry you are, the same happened to you! Lord Snow reminds me a lot of my Piers, actually." Gabrielle gazed at Maharet in interest as she picked at the eggs.

"Are you still married to him?" Maharet shook her head.

"No. Piers was in the army. He died in a battle a few months after our wedding. I bore his son five months later."

"What . . . happened to your son?"

"Hmm? Oh, you mean Colet? He's a leather tanner in King's Landing. Favorite of the King from what I hear. He has a wife and a few children of his own, I think." Gabrielle nodded.

"So . . . you became with child during the Three Days?" Maharet nodded.

"Oh darling, most women in the North do! It's the spirit of the Goddess Mara in our wombs, you understand. If they don't, then they are either not pious enough or they are from the South." Gabrielle nodded as she continued eating, a silence descending between them that was all but ignorable. When she was done, she and Maharet moved around to the armoire, where they flipped through the dresses, eventually settling on a beautiful one of emerald green silk with pearl embroidered hems.

Gabrielle lay the dress on the bed and smoothed it out so it would not get any creases. She glanced back at Maharet. "Can you draw me a bath, please, lady Maharet?" Maharet nodded and curtsied as she moved to the door to the living room in order to command the servants to bring in the tub and buckets of hot water to fill it. Gabrielle watched patiently as the servants slowly filled up the tub and when it was finished, Gabrielle bid Maharet to leave her, that she wished to bathe in peace. Maharet nodded and curtsied again as she and the servants left the room.

Gabrielle slunk down into the tub, letting out a moan at the feeling of the warm, soothing water on her slightly aching skin. She allowed her head to fall back aganist the wood behind her, moving her hair to fall over the side of the bathtub so that it wouldn't get wet. She closed her eyes in bliss, allowing the rosy scent of the water to clear her brain, allowing her to fully relax.

Her eyes opened a few minutes later and they stayed open. She gazed up at the stone ceiling of the castle, her eyes tracing the grooves of the stone as she thought about what Maharet had said about Northern women always conceiving their first child during the Three Days, and realizing that she would be no different. She was a Northern girl, born and bred and there was no reason why that would not apply to her. After all, it had applied to her mother and her mother's mother before her, too!

Gabrielle's hands unconsciously moved to cover the stretch of skin over her womb through the water, her fingers drawing circles in the soft flesh located there. Jon had, had her twice last night, and both times, they had came. Could she be with child at that moment? Could his seed have taken ahold that fast, his child already growing stronger and stronger with every breathe she took and every morsel of food she ate?

Gabrielle took a deep breath and slowly let it out, almost feeling something stir within her womb with that first healthy gulp of air. She grinned despite herself and allowed her head to fall back aganist the wood of the tub again. Her eyes closed again and an excited grin graced her features as her arms tightened around her stomach.

She heard the scrap of a stool being dragged across the floor to the tub, and the wood creaked as someone sat down on it. At first, she thought it was Maharet, coming back to brush out her hair out before she washed it like the other servants had done before the wedding, but as soon as she felt the callused fingers sliding fluidly into the locks, where they starting gently massaging her scalp, she immediately knew it was Jon. She grinned despite herself, keeping her eyes closed, even when he leaned down and kissed her, slowly, lovingly. He broke apart and she could see the playful grin playing out on his face in her mind.

"I never thought such a beautiful visage would greet me upon my return . . . my own little naked water nymph . . ." He whispered to her, and she laughed a little as she opened her eyes, taking in his red face caused by the winter cold outside, to his pale, unclothed torso.

"You could join me, my love . . . warm that cold flesh of yours." She whispered, grinning, and he nodded.

"That's not a bad idea, you know . . ." He whispered back, a grin playing out on his face as he planted another quick kiss on her lips. He backed away, kicking the stool aside so that they wouldn't trip on it getting out of the bath. She heard the rustling of fabric as he removed his breeches and smallclothes, and when he returned to her, she slid forward in the tub so that he could move in behind her. She moved back to rest aganist his chest, her head falling back onto his shoulder, and she let out a moan of contentment as his strong arms wrapped protectively around her.

"I missed you this morning, Jon . . ." She murmured, and she felt him nod in agreement as he planted a kiss on her temple.

"I know. I would have stayed and woke up beside you, but Bran so looks forward to our archery lessons that I can barely turn him down without feeling like I've committed a murder!" Gabrielle smiled a small smile.

"Was everyone angry with us leaving before the feast was over?" Jon grinned and chuckled as he shook his head.

"No, everyone completely understands our craving to be with each other for these three days." Gabrielle grinned and bit her bottom lip as she soaped up her hands and then ran them over the bronze thigh that had so recently broke the surface of the water.

"So . . . you've been craving me, huh?" She asked him coyly as she leaned forward to grab the bar of rose scented soap laying on a nearby stool. Jon nodded as he grasped her shoulder and pulled her roughly back to him before she could reach it. She laughed and grinned as he kissed her neck.

"Oh yes . . . I couldn't stop thinking about you . . ." He murmured, his hands moving to run up her thighs to her knees, where he slowly parted her legs. Her breathing got heavier as his hand headily grabbed her waist and he continued to stroke the side of her neck with his tongue. The smell of her was intoxicating, almost like his own personal drug. He kissed the bottom of her chin before his lips desperately attached to hers. Their mouths battled for dominance while his hands fumbled for her hair, tangling his fingers in her ebony locks.

She gasped as she felt Jon's hands slide along the skin of her stomach and stiffened as his fingertips lightly grazed the underside of her breasts. A kiss on the side of her neck forced her to relax some; her nipples rising as the pad of Jon's callused thumb lightly skimmed over them. She felt him grin against her skin as she relaxed into his embrace, sagging back against his chest. She tried to fight him as she lolled her head further to the side, giving him more tender flesh to trail his lips across. She felt his hand slide back down her belly, his movements becoming rough and anxious. Goosebumps broke out across her limbs as a warm hand softly began to stroke her most tender of areas.

Gabrielle bit her bottom lip, trying desperately to stave off a whimper as Jon's other arm wrapped tightly around her, his hand moving up her stomach to resume the kneading and tweaking of her breasts and nipples. The finger stroking her picked up its pace as she felt something hard push against her lower back and as Jon breathed heavily against her neck and as his thumb starting stroking her clit. Gabrielle blushed with pleasure as her legs began to jerk slightly, her hips thrusting against her will as the fingers began to swirl inside her. Everything began to fade as chills and warm waves rushed through her. She couldn't hear how loud her gasping had become or the slight moans she was emitting, but she could taste the salt of Jon's sweat as his fingers moved over her mouth.

She wanted him. She wanted all of him, she couldn't deny that no longer. One of her hands moved down to clench the callused hand that was making love to her, the other came up and behind her as she buried it in his shoulder-length black hair. His breathing was harsh against her neck and she relished the roughness of it as she sucked on his first finger. The fingers stopped swirling and went back to a fast, hard thrusting, pulling up through her folds, scraping the spot inside her that made her go wild. She couldn't take it anymore as her back arched against him. She drifted as her body convulsed, his arms coming back up around her, to hold her until she stopped.

She tilted her head back, a hand on Jon's cheek, guiding him down into a kiss. She had meant to be gentle, to show him her appreciation, but he had other things in mind. As his tongue plunged into her mouth, roughly making love to hers, she felt his throbbing hardness against her lower back, and with a grin and a squeal coming from her throat, Jon stood and picked her up, where he carried her to the canopied bed a few feet away, a knowing grin on his face at the fact that both knew keenly that they wouldn't do much else the entire day.


	5. Chapter 5

They made love three more times that afternoon, and when they finished sometime around when the sun was starting to disappear into the horizon, they were still wrapped around each other like the first time they had came. Limbs were entwined, chests were heaving, almost every bedcover save for the sheet was on the floor, even the pillows. The room had the vague smell of sweat, sex and the candles alight on the nearby tables.

Gabrielle found herself laying there, Jon on top of her, their hands and fingers entwined above them on the mattress and his lips lazily pressing kisses to the side of her neck and throat, his teeth occasionally grazing the soft flesh there. She could feel him laying on top of her, his soft lips aganist her skin, the pulses between their entwined fingers . . . she could feel his length . . . wet, hot and deep inside of her body, being cradled so intimately that when she kissed him, slowly, lazily, he stirred inside of her again.

She withdrew her hands from his and held his face in them, their eyes gently roving the other's face. "I love you." He whispered, his gaze so unwavering in their emotion, his words so firm, that Gabrielle felt herself smiling. "And after last night, that love grew so much –"

He was interrupted mid-sentence by a knock appearing on their bedchamber door. Jon groaned and reluctantly pulled out of her, where he leaned over the side of the bed and brought up a sheet, where he pulled it over them. He sat up and ran a hand through his messy black curls before he called, 'enter'.

The door opened and Maharet entered, the candlelight shining off of her long red hair, alighting the gray streaks in it, making it shine even more. She curtsied to the couple and only spoke when he bid her to.

"I am sorry for disturbing you, Lord and Lady Snow, but Lord Winterfell and Sir Robb Stark are awaiting you in your presence chamber. They say it is most urgent or they would not have disturbed you until morning." Jon nodded and sighed.

"Okay . . . tell them I'll be out momentarily." Maharet nodded and curtsied.

"Your will, Lord." She nodded in reverence towards Gabrielle, who smiled a small smile back, and she ducked out of the chamber. They heard her soft, lilting voice tell Jon's father and half-brother that he would be with them momentarily, and Jon sighed again as he threw the sheet aside and stood, where he moved over to the armoire holding their clothes. He got dressed in silence, and Gabrielle sat up, where she pulled her knees to her chest and hugged them to her.

"You will come back to me, won't you Jon? Its just . . . it get incredibly boring without you." She asked him in a shaky voice, and he smiled a small smile. He walked over to the bed and leaned on one knee on the soft mattress, white linens and covers. He gathered his tiny love into his strong arms and hugged her close to him, sheet and all. He smiled and chuckled softly to himself as he pressed his forehead to hers.

"You know I love you my little faerie love . . ." He whispered to her and she smiled and laughed a little. She kissed him gently for a moment before they broke apart, Jon moving to pull on his boots and pull his cloak over his shoulders. He clasped it in place before he turned around to gaze at her.

"You need anything while I'm out?" Gabrielle shrugged.

"Just send in Maharet, if you'd be so kind, my love." Jon nodded and smiled lovingly as he moved over to her. He planted a kiss on her temple and bid her goodbye before he turned and swept from the room. He nodded to the older redheaded woman standing by the doorway, who nodded and curtsied before she deftly moved into the bedchamber to wait on Gabrielle. Jon turned to his father and half-brother waiting patiently for him by the roaring fire in his presence chamber, and Jon smiled.

"You needed to see me?" Ned Stark heaved a sigh as he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"This is going to seem rather strange to ask, Jon, but . . ." Ned sighed and trailed off, not knowing how to put it, but Robb rolled his eyes and blurted out what Ned was trying to put gently.

"Oh for the love of the Gods, Jon! Was Gabrielle a bloody virgin when you fucked her on your wedding night?"

* * *

><p>By the time Maharet was fully in the room and had the bedchamber door shut, Gabrielle was out of bed wearing an expensive cream-crimped nightgown and her ermine lined robe around her. She greeted Maharet, who smiled and curtsied.<p>

"My Lady Snow . . . how are you this evening?" Gabrielle nodded as she moved around the four-poster bed, tying the sash securely around as she moved.

"I am fine, Maharet." She smiled and Maharet smiled back as she moved over to the nearby table, where she poured her a goblet of wine. She handed it to Gabrielle, who took from her and took a tiny sip. Maharet could tell that there was something preying on her mind, but knew it would be impudent for her just bluntly come out and ask. So she waited for Gabrielle to bring it up, which she did in due time,

"May I ask a question, Lady Maharet?" Gabrielle asked her as she sat down on the edge of the unmade bed, occasionally taking a sip from her goblet of wine. All growing up, she had drunk water and the occasional mug of milk. Wine was a noble drink, something that the commoners rarely tasted. Gabrielle still wasn't used to bitter liquid.

Maharet nodded and glanced at her mistress before she went over to poke the fire in the fireplace grate, which was starting to die down.

"Have you . . . any other children than your one son?"

"I married again when my Piers died, a years after, actually. He was Kings' Landing nobleman named Sir. Willem Townsend. He was a good man . . . he didn't beat me, I and Colet was well cared for, we were safe. We had two children, both girls, Meena and Sylvia, before he died in a ship wreak off the coast of Kings' Landing." Gabrielle nodded thoughtfully, hesitant to get to the real question that she wanted to ask and which had been preying on her mind since earlier that day.

"M-May I ask another question?"

"Of course, my Lady. You can ask me anything, I am completely in your confidence."

"How . . . how do you know if you are with child?" Maharet slowly stopped poking the fire and straightened up, where she dusted off her hands. She sighed as she smoothed out her skirts.

"I am afraid that I have not . . . been the most truthful with you, my Lady Snow. I am to become your Lady-in-waiting, true, but I am also your midwife – your physician." Gabrielle's eyes widened, and Maharet closed her eyes and shook her head. "Do not be alarmed, every noblewoman has at least one midwife in their Ladies. The Lady Catelyn, the Queen Cersei, they all have midwives in their Ladies. Its perfectly normal." Gabrielle nodded slowly, although the slightly alarmed look in her eyes betrayed her. Maharet smiled soothingly and entwined her fingers in front of her bodice. "Now, if you do not mind me asking, why does this topic trouble you so? Surely you are not questioning your fertility –"

Gabrielle shook her head immediately, interrupting Maharet mid-sentence. "No, of course I'm not! My grandmother before me had nine children on my mother's side, and my father's mother had five! Fertility is not the problem!" Maharet nodded thoughtfully.

"Do you . . . _think _you are with child? I say this because . . . forgive me, my Lady, but . . . it is too soon to be sure!" Gabrielle shrugged.

"Its just the fact that I will be surprised if I'm _not_ with child! I am deeply in love with my husband, there is not a man in the world that I would not be rather married too, and Jon is not exactly impotent . . ." She trailed off, and Maharet nodded as she sat down on the edge of bed beside her.

"It is said that the Goddess Mara's temple, her shrine, is in a woman's womb. That when a woman is with child, she can feel the spirit of Mara inside her, caring for and keeping the child safe until it is time for he or she to be born into this world. That . . . unconsciously, the mother and father knows about the growing child, because Mara whispers it into their mind while they are sleeping. I myself, knew that I was with child, even before I got the signs." Gabrielle nodded, noting the growing tendrils of love that would randomly sprout in her womb whenever she was alone. She especially noted the times when she would lay awake at night, Jon sleeping deeply on his side beside he, his hand laying protectively on her stomach, almost like he knew deep within his bones that she carrying his child. Gabrielle didn't have to say none of this, for Maharet read it all in her eyes.

Maharet smiled as she stood and moved over to a cabinet across from the armoire. She opened the doors and reached inside, where she uncorked a vial. "I bought this in Kings' Landing from a Dothraki merchant who swore on her own immortal soul that this helped produce strong children that would lead long, fruitful lives. I used it while I carrying my daughters, and whilst they are still young, each has a growing family of their own. With your permission, my Lady, I would like to use it on you." Gabrielle hesitated for a moment but then nodded, setting her goblet aside.

"Sure – I mean, yes . . ." She spoke, and Maharet inclined her head to her mistress, where she gestured to the pillows now stacked aganist the headboards of the bed.

"Recline aganist those pillows my Lady Snow, and cross your feet at the ankles." Gabrielle did as she was told, and Maharet crossed the room to her, where she undid her robe and unbuttoned the few buttons of her nightgown that covered her stomach.

"It might be lukewarm, so brace yourself, my Lady." Gabrielle nodded as Maharet poured a dime sized amount of the pearly white liquid on her still flat, corded stomach, where Maharet began gently massaging it into her skin using her fingertips.

"Tell me, my Lady . . . how did you and Lord Snow meet?"

Maharet broke the silence between them with a light, cheerful question, and Gabrielle sighed before she answered,

"He and his father was visiting my father looking for someone who could make a new batch of swords for the town guardsmen. We spied each other across the way, locked eyes and . . . the rest is history, I suppose." Maharet smiled.

"Did you always love him?"

"Not really. It started out as a dear friendship that turned into adoration before hitting full-blown love. I gave him my first kiss and well as my first everything, it seems."

"I envy you, my Lady Snow . . . you and Lord Snow sound like your very much in love." Gabrielle gazed at her Lady in curiousity.

"You did not love your husbands?"

"I loved Piers. We met similar to how you and Lord Snow met. We were married not soon after we met, and spend three blissful months together before he died. My marriage to Willem was a good marriage, but made of convenience. He was an ailing, rich merchant who wished for a wife to peacefully live the rest of his days out with, and I saw no reason not to marry him. It was remarkable we had two daughters! I keep telling myself that it could have been a lot worse, and it really could have," Maharet smiled. "Just be very thankful, my Lady Snow, that you have someone that you love dearly and would die for. Like I realized when I married Willem, it could have been a lot worse." Gabrielle nodded in agreement.

"Yes . . . yes I'm very thankful that Jon is the one I have fallen in love with."

* * *

><p>"How dare – of course she was!" Jon snarled angrily, his eyes flashing at his brother's bold-faced impudence. He would take a lot of things from his brother, but if Robb dared to challenge his wife's honesty and chastity to his face, he had no doubt in his mind that he would tear his ever-loving throat out.<p>

"Did you actually feel something breaking when you fucked her, Jon? Did she bleed?"

"I swear to the Gods, Robb, that if you don't _shut up –_"

"Okay boys, calm down, calm down!" Ned spoke soothingly, holding out his hands to his two bickering sons, gazing at them each in turn. He turned his eyes onto Jon and stepped in-between him and his older half-brother by only more than two months, where he addressed his next words to him.

"The reason we are bringing this up, Jon, is because there is a man in the village who claims that Gabrielle was promised to him in marriage during a drunken card game between him and Gabrielle's father. He claims that he had already known her intimately, and we are just covering our bases before we confront this imbecile, that's all!"

"By how? Questioning my wife's honesty to me and her chastity when I was all she thought about before our marriage?" Jon asked him furiously, and Robb scoffed as he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"I don't think you should be so sure, Jon . . . you told me yourself many times that you two had gotten close to becoming intimate before your marriage . . . maybe she was trying to cover something up."

Jon rolled his eyes and threw up his hands in irritation as he turned around and walked off a few steps. He turned around, his face more than furious. "I will swear to the Old Gods of the Forest, in front of the Heart Tree itself, that Gabrielle was a virgin when she came to our bed! For the sake of Mara and all that is sacred, she _was in pain_ – _visible_ pain! – when I first entered her! Is that not good enough? Or do I have to recount every little thing we done on our wedding night?" Ned Stark shook his head.

"No, that's not necessary Jon, but please understand that we only wish to keep her reputation safe –"

"Jon! Jon darling, I have the most wonderful news!"

Ned Stark was interrupted by the door to the bedchamber being swung open and Gabrielle sweeping out into the presence chamber wearing a gown of the most splendid royal purple, a robe of black velvet trimmed with fox, and her black hair tied back into an elegant chignon at the back of her hair. The scent of lily-of-the-valley filled the room, and all three men standing there felt their breaths catch in their throats at the angelic sight of her. Gabrielle Pournell Snow was breathtakingly beautiful, and Robb felt a little tinge of jealously that all her beauty was for Jon's eyes only . . . that the bastard son got one of the most beautiful women in Winterfell, if not the prettiest, and that he, the legitimate son, was stuck with the less beautiful.

Ned did not miss the broad, loving beam that had immediately spread across his son's face when she entered the room and swept into his arms, where they embraced tightly. She broke apart and immediately inclined her head towards Ned and Robb, who smiled warmly back and bowed. She could not help but notice the stiffness in Jon's spine, the rigidness of his musculature, for he was still angry at his brother's blatantly impudent words, and she gazed between the three men standing there, a slightly worried look in her eyes.

"Was is going on?" Jon smiled tightly and looped an arm around his wife's waist, where he planted a tender kiss to her forehead.

"Nothing, my darling. Father and brother just came to ask a question, they have the answer, and they were just leaving." He assured her, gazing pointedly at his father and half-brother. Robb opened his mouth like he was going to angrily retort, but Ned held out a hand, silencing his rash son. He smiled warmly and bowed low to Gabrielle, and reluctantly, Robb did the same.

"Yes, Jon is right, we were just leaving. Of course, we would love to stay for the good news, if you will allow us . . ." He trailed off, and Gabrielle nodded and grinned as she gazed at Jon, where she smoothed a hand over his lightly stubbled cheek.

"Jon, my love . . . I am with child!"


	6. Chapter 6

The silence that preceded Gabrielle's words was all-encompassing. All three of the men there stood stunned, unable to believe what she had just said. Eventually, Jon broke the silence by gently grasping her upper arms and gazing intently into her eyes.

"Darling, are you sure?" Gabrielle nodded, looking a little hurt.

"Of course I am, Jon! Everyone knows that every Northern woman gets pregnant during the Three Days." Robb and Ned shifted uneasily from foot to foot.

"Gabrielle, we have to ask . . ." Ned began, but Jon shot him a look that said that he would be the one to ask her. He turned to Gabrielle and swallowed heavily.

"Gabrielle, darling . . . did you come to our bed chaste?" Immediately, an appalled and unadulterated hurt look appeared in her eyes. She wrenched herself out his arms and hugged herself, trembling slightly.

"How dare you question my chastity, Jon! You know yourself that I saved myself for you on our wedding night because I love you! For Gods' sake, I bled last night! I thought you had seen . . . Gods know the maids did, they commented on it in the shadows!" Jon turned to his father and brother.

"There . . . the words straight from the mouth of the one being questioned. Are you happy now?" Ned immediately bowed low to Gabrielle, apologizing profusely.

"I am sorry that it had to come to this, Lady Gabrielle, we just . . . wanted to be sure."

"About what? Is this common practice for every woman that enters the Stark family?" Ned shook his head.

"No, it's just . . . there is a man in the village that says that you were promised to him in marriage in a drunken card game by your father. He also has said that he has known you intimately. We just wanted to have our bases covered before we confront this imbecile."

"Who is he?"

"A certain John Furchess –"

"_Him!_ Oh Gods, I thought he had given up!" She put her hand to her head wearily, and Ned and Jon's eyebrows furrowed in surprise.

"What do you mean?" Jon asked, and she sighed and threw her hands up in the air in frustration.

"There . . . was this guy that came around last year, asking for my hand. He is well known in the village as the town drunkard, ask anyone, they'll tell you! When my father turned him down, he became angry and promised that whomever I married would suffer until I was his. Eventually, he was chased out of the village after starting a riot in the local bar. We all thought he was gone for good . . . I didn't think my whole entire life would be haunted by this man!" Jon smiled reassuringly and looped an arm around her waist.

"It won't, my darling, I promise!" Robb smiled reassuringly as well and stepped forward.

"Don't worry, Gabrielle, this man will see justice, even if me and Jon have to track him down ourselves! Which, judging by the infuriated expression on his face, he will do himself, even if I didn't want to!" Gabrielle smiled thankfully and nodded.

"I've never . . . my whole life, my opinion and my side of the story never mattered. I'm thankful that it does now." She spoke, and the three men smiled as Ned turned back to his son.

"Congratulations are in order, I think. It has been a long time since a strong, healthy child has run through these hallowed halls, and I am glad that it will be your child, Jon," Ned told him, and although Jon knew that his father was just saying it to be kind, he saw a fleeting expression flit through Robb's eyes that Jon himself could not place.

Gabrielle smiled graciously and curtsied, a light blush tingeing her cheeks at Neddard Stark's kind words, and when her beautiful eyes fell onto Robb, he smiled and nodded amiably, his anger at his father temporarily forgotten as he gazed into the beautiful depths of her eyes. Once again, he felt a flare of jealously towards his brother as he gazed at the young woman standing before them. The young woman that was now claiming she was with child . . . Jon's child.

Ned glanced towards Robb and smiled. "We should get going. We have a meeting with my advisors on how best to prepare for King Robert's arrival," Ned bowed slightly to Gabrielle.

"It has been an utter pleasure, Lady Snow, to have seen you again." He told her, and Gabrielle blushed a little bit more. Robb bowed a little too but said nothing, and Gabrielle curtsied to them in return. They bit more goodbyes before they swept from the room, leaving Jon and Gabrielle alone together, the only sound the cracking and popping of the fire in the wrought iron grate of the stone fireplace. With a swish of her skirts, Gabrielle turned around and moved over to the nearby divan, where she sat down. She gazed into the fire for a moment before Jon turned around to gaze at her.

"Are you absolutely sure?" He asked her, and she turned her gaze up to him.

"Am I sure about what?"

"Are you sure about you being with child." Gabrielle smiled and laughed a little.

"Of course I am, Jon. Why is that hard for everyone to believe?" Jon shook his head.

"It's not hard to believe, Gabrielle, it's just . . . I never realized that it would be this soon! That-that I would become a father this soon!" He told her as he moved over to her and got down on one knee in front of her. He took her hands within his and pressed his lips to them, never once breaking eye contact with her. She gazed at him and smiled a small smile.

"I thought you were angry at me. What with this whole thing going on with this guy and-and . . . I realize that me saying I was with child came at the worst possible moment, but . . . I was just so happy!" She sniffed and tears welled up in her eyes. Jon reached forward and gently wiped away a stray tear with his thumb.

"Gabrielle . . . tell me the truth, please . . . who exactly is this John guy?" Gabrielle gazed at him pointedly for a moment before she took a deep breath and spoke:

"I came to you a virgin, Jon, don't you dare think otherwise!" She started off tearfully, and Jon nodded.

"Yeah, I figured that." He told her gently as he stood and moved to sit beside her on the divan, her hands still within his. She took a shuddering breath and continued,

"Remember that time, a couple of years ago, when you and Robb and Ned and the boys went off to King's Landing for the horse races?" Jon nodded, and Gabrielle swallowed heavily, tears ghosting her eyes again. "Well, you were gone for a really long time, Jon, and I thought that you would never come back, or-or you found someone else, someone in King's Landing that would have made you forget all about me! Well, then John arrived. He was a young woodcutter from one of the other cities, tall, dark, blonde, charming," Gabrielle swallowed heavily again. "He said he really liked me, and Jon -"

"Oh Gods . . .!" Jon breathed as he stood and walked away a couple of feet, his hand to his mouth. He kept his back to her as images flashed through his mind every one of them worse than the last. Gabrielle gazed at his back pleadingly, and a tear streaked down her cheek.

"We had a couple of picnics in the woods and I let him kiss me a couple of time, but that was all Jon, I swear! I will swear on the Godtree, on our marriage, and on the life of our child, Jon, that nothing happened except those two little kisses! And when those kisses happened, it suddenly occurred to me that you _would_ come back, because you loved me and you promised that you would never leave me, and I ran, Jon, I _ran_! I ran all the way home and when he came to ask my father for my hand later that night, I begged my father to say no, because I loved you and I was destined to be yours, only yours and no one else's!" She licked her lips and he turned around, his eyes full of pain.

"What happened?"

"He became violent. He would get drunk at the tavern every day and fallow me all around the village throughout the day. He wouldn't stop, even when you finally came home."

"That's why you would beg me to keep you around me until nightfall." Gabrielle nodded.

"Exactly," She sighed in relief that he no longer had the same accusatory glare in his eyes. "It eventually got to where I could hardly step outside the house without him being there. I was scared; I was terrified that the rage would grow so large within him that he would hurt me or my family . . . except when I was with you. When I was with you, I never saw him, I was never scared. It was you . . . and it will always be you, Jon!"

Jon moved swiftly over to her, where he sat beside her again. He pulled her into his arms and she buried she snuggled into his arms, burying her face in his robes and intensely ashamed of herself. He shushed her gently and soothingly ran his hand down her hair as he reclined back against the divan. This man . . . this saintly man who seemed to love her with every fiber of his being, was almost too good for her.

Her fingers fisted in the softness of the fur lining of his cloak, and they stayed like that for a while, Jon reclined against the divan with Gabrielle curled in his arms. Her sobs had long sense stopped, and she gazed into the fire crackling and popping within the grate on the other side of the room, her eyes red and puffy and her face half-buried in the soft fur of his cloak. The hand that was not trailing its fingers gently through her hair, had long sense settled over her stomach, creating a comforting, protective weight that she knew she would miss as soon as he took it away.

When she finally spoke, her voice was soft and Jon had to strain his ears to hear her.

"He meant nothing to me, Jon, I swear," She began quietly, and he nodded.

"I know." He murmured and she bit her bottom lip.

"I first figured out that I loved you that night on the creek bank during the Harvest Festival. When I kissed you and I fell back, you falling on top of me, where we . . . we made out amongst other things . . ." She laughed a little and looked away as she twirled a lock of fur around her finger. "It was the first time that I had ever felt safe since John starting stalking me, and I let my guard down and I . . . I fell in love with you then." She took a shuddering breath.

"He eventually . . . he eventually was run out of town. He had drunk too much one afternoon and murdered a tavern girl in one of the upstairs rooms. They chased him out of town with the atypical torches and pitchforks. That's what da told me anyway."

"Why did he come back?" Gabrielle shrugged.

"I don't know, Jon, I honestly don't know. Maybe he figured out about our marriage, which I would be surprised if he hadn't, and decided to come back to be an asshole." Jon nodded and sat up, taking her with him. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her gently.

"If that son of bitch even dares to show his face in this castle, I will drive my sword through him upon sight." He told her firmly, and Gabrielle smiled tearfully.

"You're too good to me, Jon." His face broke out into a grin.

"Why wouldn't I? You're my wife, Gabrielle . . . no matter what you'd do, I'd still love you."

* * *

><p>"Have you heard the news, Lady Stark?"<p>

Catelyn glanced at her Lady sitting opposite her doing needlepoint, and smiled. "What news, Lady Mischa?"

"Rumor has it that the Lady Snow is with child." Catelyn sighed.

"I wouldn't doubt it. She is a Northerner, after all. All Northern women conceive their first child during the Three Days. Why, I did the same with Robb! No doubt she and the bastard will go around the castle and village gushing about it."

"What about Lord Stark? What would he think about this?" Catelyn sighed again.

"No doubt he is ecstatic. My husband has always loved children, and this will be his first grandchild, I loathe saying it. No doubt the bastard's child will be the center of his world until I can find a suitable match for Robb and he sires a child." She scowled then, and the Lady Mischa glanced at her.

"Why do you have that look, my Lady?" Catelyn shook her head.

"It's just . . . I had Gabrielle all lined up for Robb; she was the perfect match! She is beautiful, kind, no doubt fertile. But then that blasted bastard son of Ned's came by asking for her hand and Ned took no thought to my own wishes. Of course, when it always came to that damned Jon Snow and Whylla Snow, Ned always seemed to take no other heed to anyone else."

"What do you plan on doing with her?"

"Nothing, I suppose. She is invincible it seems. Jon guards her like a hawk ever since that drunkard's come back to town, Ned and all the children except Sansa positively adore her and she has that dratted Maharet Townsend as her midwife and head Lady. She also watches Gabrielle like a hawk, and I wouldn't put it past Maharet to taste her food as well." The Lady Mischa shook her head.

"Oh, if only our men's eyes never strayed." Catelyn scoffed.

"Oh believe me, girl . . . Ned's eyes and heart didn't stray . . . his cock did."


	7. Chapter 7

**Ha ha, Like I told Dean's Leather Jacket in an e-mail earlier, for those of you who can't wait to see Jaime Lannister make his surely over grandiose entrance, you'll have to wait for at least a few more chapters. I want Jon and Gabrielle's child to be at least a year old before sending them off to court, but personally, I have no idea how Im gonna introduce him, so if you guys have some ideas, feel free to pm me or review me with your suggestions :) Thanks!**

**Nagiana**

* * *

><p><em>Five Months Later . . .<em>

"Gabrielle, Gabrielle, watch me!"

Gabrielle smiled a small smile and turned her attention onto Bran Stark, who had an arrow trained on the bull's eye in front of him. Jon was standing beside him, a small smile on his face as well. Gabrielle had been walking in the courtyard with Maharet when Bran called to her, and she stopped and grinned.

"Go on Bran, I'm watching!" She called back to him, and Bran grinned as he trained his eyes on the red painted circle at the center of the bull's eye. When he was certain he couldn't miss, he let the arrow fly with a 'whiz'. The arrow buried itself in the red hay that made up the center of the bull's eye, and everyone cheered and clapped at the little's boy's increasing skill. Even Jon was grinning and clapping his hands, although his eyes were reserved solely for his wife.

"You're doing wonderful Bran! Keep it up, I'll be right back," He complimented as he ruffled his younger half-brother's dark brown hair. Bran nodded and notched another arrow as Jon grinned and made his way over a small pyramid shaped pile of wood to his wife and her Lady, who grinned back. He pulled Gabrielle into his arms and pecked her on the lips, his hands moving to her five-month pregnant stomach.

"How are you this morning, sweetheart?" He asked her, and Gabrielle smiled and nodded.

"I am doing fine, love. We were just taking a walk." Maharet nodded.

"The fresh summer air is good for the babe." She added, and Jon nodded.

"I don't doubt it! This has been the coolest summer on record! Or so father says, anyway." He shrugged then, and Gabrielle smiled.

"I've got it . . . I've thought of a name!" Jon grinned good-naturedly. This was a game of theirs, one that they were now playing well. Each of them would pose a question of a baby name and the other would reply in kind. So far, they were no closer to a name for the baby, than King Robert was to getting sober!

"Is it like the other ones?" He asked teasingly, and Gabrielle grinned and rolled her eyes.

"No! This one is a genuinely good one, I promise!" Jon nodded.

"Okay then, love . . . what is it?" Preparing himself for another not-so-good name, Jon Snow was positively floored when she spoke the name.

"Nathaniel . . . Nathaniel Snow for a boy. 'Nate' for short"

Jon stood there for a moment, unable to comprehend the brilliance of the name. It went along perfectly with his family name and gave a nice ring to it. Not-to-mention, there hadn't been a Nathaniel in the family since his mother's great-grandfather, and secretly, he wanted another thing to rub into Catelyn Stark's face. Her husband, her beloved, saintly husband, would positively adore Jon's son, Nathaniel Snow, whose namesake came from the very great-grandfather that her great-grandfather despised! So not only would Ned Stark positively adore the son of his own bastard son, but adore the son coming from the long-time enemy of Catelyn's own family!

Jon nodded, grinning. "It's perfect, Gabrielle . . . I adore it, love!" He told her as he took her in his arms again in a warm embrace that had her melting in his arms. Maharet smiled kindly at the young couple that was so much in love, but her body tensed when she spied the woman and her Lady that had so recently entered the courtyard. She stepped forward and placed a gentle hand on her mistress's shoulder before she murmured something in her ear. Gabrielle and Jon immediately broke apart to see if it was who she claimed. Sure enough, Catelyn Stark, the very bane of Jon, his unborn son and quickly Gabrielle's existence, had entered the courtyard. Jon excused himself from his wife and her Lady before he hastily joined Bran again, where he immediately resumed their lesson.

Catelyn Stark moved slowly around the courtyard with her Lady to Gabrielle and Maharet in a wide arc, watching Jon and Bran with nothing else that could be described as hawk's eyes. Everyone knew that Catelyn Stark adored her children and would cut the throat of anyone who tried to bring down her family or hurt them, but just as well, everyone knew that when it came to Jon, her husband's very own bastard son with none other than a serving maid descended from the very family that had been enemies with her own since practically the dawn of time, her anger would descend to that of a dragon.

Jon, who was painfully aware of Catelyn's eyes on him more than her own son, tried to give her no reason to start a fight with him that her husband would eventually have to diffuse. He knew that he was being a little bit shorter with Bran because of it, but when he felt that Catelyn's sullen, angry gaze had finally moved over him and onto something else, he let out a sigh of relief and went back to the friendly, easy teacher that Bran was long used to. It was not often that Catelyn Stark came to observe her son's archery lesson, but when she did, Jon had an unneeded amount of stress descend upon him.

Catelyn Stark's gaze had indeed moved over Jon with startling quickness, only to be replaced on Gabrielle and Maharet. Catelyn smiled the tightest, friendliest smile that she could summon as she made her way over to Gabrielle. Gabrielle tensed, looking a little uneasy, but the graying redhead standing behind her adopted a tense pose, a suspicious pose. Her arms, which had been crossed in front of her chest, tightened in anticipation of a quarrel.

"Oh, my dear Lady Snow, it is you! How well you look!" Catelyn called good-naturedly as she neared them, her arms outstretched. She neared Gabrielle and pecked her once on each cheek before backing away. Gabrielle gazed at her warily, acutely aware that she carried the child of the very same man that Catelyn despised with all her being. Her arms tightened unconsciously around her stomach, a move that Catelyn did not fail to notice. Catelyn smiled a small, warm smile at the motion.

"How beautiful you look with child, Gabrielle! I have known few women that look as beautiful as you when they are with child!" Gabrielle smiled tightly back and inclined her head respectfully.

"I thank you, Lady Stark. We are very happy with the news."

"Of course you are darling, and I see you have employed the famous Maharet Townsend as your midwife and head Lady!" Maharet smiled a small smile and stiffly inclined her head.

"Lady Stark." Catelyn nodded back and turned back to Gabrielle.

"Maharet is an excellent maid, Gabrielle, but a poor midwife, I've heard. I have many others that I can heartily recommend -"

"Excuse me for interrupting, Lady Stark, but I am very pleased with Maharet's service! She is the one that has predicted that my child will be a son, and she had taken beautiful care of me and Nathaniel. I have no complaints with her and doubt that I ever shall!" Catelyn Stark nodded stiffly, her warm demeanor drying up in favor of a harsher one.

"I am only looking out for your welfare, and that of my husband's grandchild, you must understand, Lady Snow."

"You mean Lord Stark _and _your grandchild -"

"Excuse me, Lady Snow?" Catelyn Stark interrupted her with an alarmed look on her face as her hand flew to her throat. "I am no blood relation to Jon, nor you, thus I have no blood relation to the child you are carrying! How can it possibly be considered my grandchild when I am no blood relation -"

"You are Jon's stepmother, are you not?" Catelyn gaped at her in alarm and slight anger.

"A wife does not mother to her husband's bastard son, Lady Snow!" Gabrielle shrugged.

"Why not? It is an innocent child, especially if his or her mother had died or disappeared from the kingdom. I look at it as a mistake. It was a mistake that your husband and Jon's mother unwillingly conceived him, just like it would be a mistake if Jon conceived a child with another woman. I would not blame the child for the sins of his or her parents." Catelyn Stark smiled tightly. It was a smile of challenge.

"You are a saint amongst us mortals, Lady Snow." Gabrielle shrugged.

"I am not a Saint, Lady Stark, I just insist on living piously."


	8. Chapter 8

**Okay, so after many inquiries on when the infamous Jaime Lannister is going to appear, I have decided to write this chapter in which he appears (**everyone cheers, throwing confetti**) I'm sorry if he appears less bloodthirsty in this chapter than he does in the show, but I'm still trying to figure out how I want to write him. On a lighter note, I think you all will love and be pleasantly surprised by the curve ball I throw you guys in this chapter, and when you get to the end, yes, you-know-who is planning on making an entrance in this story ;)**

**On a much lighter note, I want to make a shout-out to a number of my best fans:**

**Dean's Leather Jacket - Being here for me through my hardest writer's blocks with your great reviews on every chapter! You are my girl! LOL**

**mrschuckbass and x XRoweenaJAugustineX x - Thanks for loving the story and never failing to review!**

**Enjoy!**

**Nagiana**

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><p>Gabrielle had never seen a castle in so much nervousness and haste than she had seen Winterfell's servants the day the King Robert and his court were scheduled to arrive in Winterfell. It was expensive enough to maintain the court of Winterfell, but by carefully overseeing and regulating taxes and woodcutting, Ned Stark had slowly increased the coffers of his town's treasury until they were all but rolling in the money. However, pile on the royal court with hundreds of retainers and noblemen as well as servants and all the horses, and everyone could tell that Ned Stark was about to go homicidal at how quickly his coffers were draining themselves back down into oblivion.<p>

Catelyn Stark, who was off visiting her sister and who would not be back until a few hours, deemed that all the duties were to be given to Gabrielle if she was not home soon enough. Gabrielle, who was now six months pregnant and terribly exhausted because of the rambunctious baby inside of her, could feel herself start to buckle underneath the weight of stress that went along with preparing Winterfell for the arrival of the King and his court. If it wasn't for Jon's love and devotion every night and Maharet's constant assurances that the stress was not harming the baby, Gabrielle _would_ have buckled.

"Lady Snow, what shall we do with the new shipments of food?"

Gabrielle turned around and immediately blanched at the mountainous carts sitting outside the gates of the castle, the massive draft horses that pulled it standing proud and strong, although their massive sides heaved with exertion. Along with needing the most expensive of entertainment that the Seven Kingdoms could offer, the King and his court were drawn to food like locusts to a wheat field. The feasts scheduled for every night had kept the kitchens running for weeks before the arrival date and had the larders being stocked for months. This new surprise shipment of food, whilst certainly needed as a surplus amount, also had her confounded as to where to put it.

"I guess um . . ." She thought for a moment before nodding. "The men are building a spare granary on the other side of the castle; they should be done in a few hours. Wait there and then store it there." The men nodded as the drivers whipped the horses that immediately turned and plodded off towards the granary she described on the other side of the castle. Gabrielle let out a weary sigh and put one hand to her forehead, the other going to her stomach. Maharet immediately stepped forward and gently placed her hands on her mistress's back and shoulder. Her eyebrows furrowed in worry.

"My Lady, you must rest! At least for a moment out of this sun, I beg of you!" Gabrielle nodded in agreement and allowed Maharet to steer her off in the direction of a nearby bench located in the shade of a beautiful bluebell and purple wisteria arbor. Gabrielle let out a relieved sigh and Maharet tsked and shook her head.

"The Lady Stark had no right to thrust this burden upon you, Lady Snow! She knew the King and his court were arriving later this afternoon and she should have known better than to go visit her sister at a time like this!"

"Who else would have done it?"

"Someone other than you!" Maharet told her earnestly. "My Lady, if I may speak freely?"

"Of course; you may always speak freely with me Maharet."

"I am amazed that your baby has lived this far! This stress is not good for you and certainly not good for the young boy inside you! You are carrying a remarkably strong son, my Lady! Though Lord Snow ought to be proud, he should also stand up to his father and demand that some burdens be taken from you in your advanced state!" Gabrielle smiled wryly.

"You do not understand, I cannot stop, Lady Maharet! I will not give Catelyn Stark something to lord over me. I _will _do this, and I _will _do this better than her!" Maharet shook her head and gazed at her mistress in stunned disbelief.

"My Lady, you cannot possibly -"

"The discussion ends here, Lady Maharet! Now, we must go to the Great Hall. We must help oversee the decorations for the feast tonight." She got to her feet then and Maharet had no choice but to get to her feet as well. Although her expression was constantly one of worry, she obediently fallowed her mistress into the Great Hall, which was swarming with servants in their mad haste to get the Hall ready for that night's feast. Red and gold banners hung everywhere, the walls, the ceiling and red and gold rugs softened the stone floor. The actors were busy rehearsing for their plays that would take place that night and the acrobats and jongleurs were practicing as well. Gabrielle was intensely relieved to see that everything was going according to plan and she was surprised when a young servant boy came running up to her out of breath.

"My Lady Snow, come quickly, there is a man waiting out in the courtyard claiming that he is part of King Robert's court. He wishes to see someone in authority." Gabrielle and Maharet glanced at each other in alarm.

"W-where is Lord Stark, Lord Robb? Where is my husband?" The young boy shrugged.

"I could not find Lord Snow, and Lord Stark and Lord Robb are out hunting for boar for tonight's feast. You are the only one left I could come to! If I return without someone to meet him, I will surely be beaten!" Gabrielle took in the teary eyed boy standing before her and pursed her lips before she nodded.

"Fine then. Lead the way; I will be the one to meet with this mysterious man." The young boy sniffed and nodded as he dried his tears. He turned around and led the way through the winding stone halls of the castle to the courtyard. At first, she did not see anyone that she did not recognize, but then her eyes passed over and eventually stopped on a man standing in the middle of the bustling courtyard. With a snow white horse caparisoned in gold and silver and his armor the same, Gabrielle and Maharet came face to face with the infamous Kingslayer himself, Jaime Lannister.

Maharet and Gabrielle could not help but gasp, and Maharet immediately stepped forward, where she placed a gentle hand on her mistress's shoulder. "What is he doing here? I suspected a courtier, not the Queen's own brother!" Gabrielle shrugged a hesitant look to her face.

"Maybe . . . maybe we should send someone to go fetch Ned and Robb? Or perhaps send someone to find my husband?" Maharet opened her mouth to speak, but they were spotted by Jaime Lannister, who grinned and made his way over to them. Gabrielle put on the most gracious smile she could afford as the golden-haired, bronze-skinned man neared her. He could only be described as something akin to a God, for his hair was as golden and as thick as molten gold, his features exquisitely carved as a marble statue, and his eyes and grin as charming as a God's.

He neared her and bowed, the same charming grin still gracing his features as he took her hand and kissed the back of it. "You must be the Lady Snow . . . you are as beautiful as the rumors say." Gabrielle could not help a look of curiosity to appear on her features.

"You've heard of me?" Jaime nodded, a look of appall coming across his features.

"Have I heard of you? Of course I've heard of you, Lady Snow! Everyone in the South has heard of you! Everyone has been talking about the beautiful maiden that Neddard Stark's bastard son has married and is expecting a son off of. I have heard everything from a golden-haired Sex Goddess to a woman of such exceptional exotic beauty with the most enchanting purple, cat-like eyes that Lord Snow was enchanted and had fallen in love with you on first sight. I would never have thought that you were even more beautiful that any of the rumors could ever have dreamed of!" Gabrielle smiled graciously and curtsied.

"I thank you, Ser Lannister, but am just a humble maiden from a blacksmithing family! I am hardly worthy of those rumors." Jaime Lannister chuckled as he gently ran his thumb over the smooth skin that made up the back of her hand. Something was different about her, though . . . her skin was too dark to one of complete Northern blood, her hair too raven black . . .

Jaime shook the thoughts from his head and grinned before he spoke,

"If I may say so, Lady Snow, your beauty should be admired by painters, exalted by poets, copied by sculptors! Surely you know that you have a beauty so exotic that it would catch the eye of the Gods themselves!" Gabrielle knew pointless flattery when she saw it, and gently slid her hand out from his. She also recognized a man who was only flattering her in order to get her to sleep with him, and shook her head at the thought.

"I thank you for your compliments, good ser, but I have a husband, I am expecting a child. Leave the flattery for the single girls." A challenging glint appeared in Jaime Lannister's eye then and Gabrielle smiled a small smile. She loved Jon and held a great confidence in their love. Nobody would ever come between her and the love that Jon shared, not even the gorgeous, bronze-skinned, golden-haired, green-eyed God, Jaime Lannister.

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><p>Catelyn Stark had indeed arrived back at Winterfell in time to meet the King Robert and his court alongside her husband and family. She had inspected every single thing that Gabrielle had supervised, from the scrubbing of the floors to the newly built, freshly stocked granary, to the food itself being cooked down in the kitchens. When she was satisfied that everything itself was satisfactory, she had gone to rejoin her husband in awaiting for the King and his court, a look on her face akin to that one would get by sucking on a particularly sour lemon.<p>

Gabrielle stood beside Jon when the carriages rumbled up in the front courtyard, feeling the all-too familiar emotions of safety and love with Jon's arm wrapped securely around her waist. The entire day she had felt Jaime Lannister's eyes on her, even when the carriage containing his sister, brother-in-law and nephews and nieces rumbled up the driveway and into the courtyard, and upon her husband's arm wrapping protectively around her waist, she felt the sense of uneasiness she had carried the entire day, disappearing upon the touch. Her pregnancy was noticeable underneath the fur cloaks they wore, although not blatant.

Jaime moved forward and opened the door to the carriage, where the indelible King Robert and his family climbed out. Queen Cersei and her children immediately started shivering underneath their thin fur robes, although Robert, in all his huskiness, seemed unaffected. He laughed and tightly embraced Ned when he saw him and thumped him on the back before they broke apart. They exchanged the usual pleasantries before Ned turned to introduce his family. He introduced Catelyn first, of course, who smiled demurely and curtsied to the King and Queen, who smiled back and inclined their hands. Then, something that no one expected, Ned nodded to Jon and Gabrielle.

"This, my friend, is my son, Jon Snow and his wife, Gabrielle." A look of unadulterated fury appeared on Catelyn Stark's face then, but everyone ignored it as their gaze turned onto the woman who induced so many heated rumors within the South. King Robert beamed and bowed a low bow to them before taking Gabrielle's hand and pressing his lips to the back of it. Cersei smiled graciously, kindly, and inclined her head to the young Lord and Lady Snow as well, in which case Gabrielle promptly blushed and curtsied, Jon bowing. "Lady Gabrielle is currently expecting their first child, to be born in three months." Ned continued, and Robert and Cersei nodded in appraisal, and it was then that Gabrielle felt Jaime's eyes halt on her again. She moved closer to Jon and he obliged her by pulling her closer to him. Ned then introduced the rest of his children, although Gabrielle could not escape the scathing, angry glares that Catelyn Stark kept shooting her every once in the while, as well as the heated glances of Jaime Lannister.

* * *

><p>"What if we have a girl?"<p>

Jon grinned from over at the canopied bed as he watched Gabrielle get ready for bed. She was naked, standing over by the water basin, taking a sponge and gently scrubbing the rose-scented warm water over her skin. Her smooth pregnancy was visible, making her eyes more beautiful than she was with clothes on.

"What makes you think that our first child will be a girl?" Gabrielle shrugged.

"I know women who have done so." Jon nodded.

"True enough. I don't know. What do you think?"

"I like the name Lark . . . it's beautiful . . . strong yet delicate. It's perfect for our daughter." Jon nodded.

"I like it. I like it, and Nathaniel." Gabrielle grinned, her bronze skin twinkling in the dull candlelight and her eyes shining at him. He grinned as she pulled on her emerald green nightgown and went to join him on the bed. He embraced her and kissed her, his kiss always as loving as any she had ever experienced.

"Well then, love, you better hope that we have twins!"

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><p>"Why so glum, love?"<p>

Jaime Lannister sighed and glanced at his sister before he turned his eyes back onto the twinkling night sky outside the window. His head still swirled with thoughts of the beautiful Gabrielle Snow and he had hardly thought of anything else that entire night. He couldn't keep his eyes off of her, even during the feast and subsequent ball, where she flitted in and out of his line of vision like a butterfly, laughing gaily and talking excitingly of the upcoming birth. She would always reappear on the arm of her beaming husband, though, that bastard son, hardly fit to be on her beautiful arm, which would make a surprising amount of anger appear in his heart. He fancied himself always in love with his sister, his gorgeous, golden-haired twin, but now . . . now he wasn't so sure.

"Oh no reason . . . nothing you need to be worried about." Cersei smiled as she closed the distance between them, where she took him in her arms. He hugged her reluctantly, the fresh, lilies-of-the-valley scent that was all Cersei, steadily filling his nose. It wasn't her, though . . . it wasn't Gabrielle. When had stood close to her, the lovely smells of lemon verbena had slowly wafted over to him and he stood entranced by her then, almost like the scent was like a drug to him.

"I can soothe your worried mind, love . . ." Cersei whispered to him, and without even thinking, Jaime nodded. He vaguely saw the smug, self-satisfied smirk that appeared on her face as she took his hand and led him to his bed tucked into one of the corners of the room. She brought him down for a kiss, her lips molding to hers, but it was wrong . . . it was all wrong. Her lips were not Gabrielle's, her hair . . . her hair was not the inky black locks of the beautiful Lady Snow . . .

He closed his eyes and took a shuddering breath before opening them. When he finally reopened them, he saw her. He saw the gorgeous Lady Snow beneath him, smiling coyly and her hands running up and down the defined planes of his chest and stomach. When he took his hands to her emerald green nightgown and tore it open, it wasn't Cersei's pale skin, pink nipples and slight stomach paunch from multiple childbirths that greeted him, but beautifully bronze skin, dusky nipples and a flat stomach rippling with corded muscle.

It was like he was in a dream, a dream that he had no control over. It was almost like he was floating above himself, watching him and the beautiful Gabrielle/Cersei. This wasn't normal . . . he was supposed to figure something out.

When he turned the beautiful blackhead over onto her hands and knees and entered her from behind, his hands moving over the smooth skin of her back to bury in her long black locks, he definitely knew something was wrong about her. He pulled her head back and she let out a slightly pained but clear moan of pleasure. As they came, her skin shining against the candlelight , her hair as black as the night, and her peculiar almond-shaped brown eyes, and Jaime finally realized what was wrong with her . . .

Gabrielle was half-Dothraki.


	9. MAJOR Arthurs note!

**Okay, it seems like I have to start explaining things because a number people are starting to state the obvious to me in reviews that should be PM's and I'm kinda getting pissed off about it. All of my loyal fans who love my story and have no complaints with it, just ignore this rant. **

**First off, yes, I KNOW Jaime sounds like a whiny baby in my chapter, I MEANT for him to! I will explain why he fell in love with her within five seconds in later chapters if people would just be PATIENT! Secondly, I know Catelyn Stark has more character development than I am letting on, I am writing her the way that best benefits my story! This is a JonxOC pairing, not a minor JonxOC pairing with a major Catelyn Starkxchildrenxlovey dovey family life like people are wanting me to write her! THIS IS ALL INTENTIONAL! I am a writer, this is my story, so instead of writing me stupid reviews stating the obvious that I already know and am planning to explain in later chapters, PLEASE be patient!**

**Again, I extend my apologies to my fans who can look past the INTENTIONAL faulty character development and enjoy the story for what it is, as FANFICTION!**

**With my sincere apologies; I will update soon with how I want to write it,**

**Nagiana**


	10. Chapter 9

**Okay, so here's the next chapter. I finally kinda explain why and how Jaime has become infatuated with Gabrielle and Gabrielle's mother explains her Dothraki roots :). **

**I suppose I've written Jaime more realistic, I guess, but I do like how I kinda wrote him. Btw, I've researched the Dothraki language but couldn't find anything on it, so what I've done instead, is substituted Hungarian for the Dothraki language because I couldn't find Native American. To me, it kinda fit lol. The translations for the words are located at the end of the chapter :)**

**Enjoy!**

**Nagiana**

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><p>Everywhere Gabrielle walked, she still felt Jaime's eyes on her, although this time, curiosity tinged his gazes that were more alarming than anything. Originally when he first met her, his gazes were ones of lust that a man got when he first saw a woman he must bed post haste, but now . . . now there was something about her that caused his fanatic intrigue of her. She didn't know what it was, but it was finally brought to light when he hunted her down in the garden one afternoon.<p>

She had been walking by herself this time, as Maharet was busy getting her quarters ready for her lying in, a process that she would have to enter soon for the two months leading up to the birth of her baby, a book of poetry open in her hand and her other lying on her stomach, where her son kicked every once in a while. She was reading deep into a poem when she felt long, elegant fingers wrap around her upper arm. Thinking it was Jon; Gabrielle grinned and turned around, only for the grin to immediately be wiped from her face when she realized that it was Jaime Lannister. Her face became expressionless and he smiled as he slowly let go of her arm. He inclined his head to her and she repeated the action before he gestured down the stone path winding its way through the expansive gardens towards one of the Godtrees located in the North.

"Walk with me?" He posed the question as a request, not a command, which was not the norm for a Lannister and in which immediately made Gabrielle recoil in surprise. The Lannisters were used to being the ones giving commands that were to be done on a moment's notice, not requests that could be turned down if wanted to. She didn't know whether Jaime's politeness came from him having a trick up his sleeve or if he genuinely wanted to redeem himself towards her after their embarrassing meeting before the arrival of King Robert and his court.

Gabrielle nodded, not saying anything, as turned down the arm he held out for her. She walked ahead of him and Jaime sighed before he fallowed after her, quickly catching up to her slow strides with his large ones. She was gazing straight ahead of her, leaving the opening of the conversation to him. He sighed and looked around.

"It is a beautiful afternoon today, is it not?" Gabrielle nodded.

"Oh, yes it is." That was all she said as a reply and Jaime sighed and tried for a new angle.

"I am sorry about our earlier meeting. I just -"

"You just thought what, Ser Lannister?" Gabrielle asked him shortly, coldly, as she suddenly stopped walking mid-stride and turned to face him. Jaime stopped beside her and she continued,

"You were well aware of who my husband was, Ser Lannister -"

"Please, Jaime . . . my father is the Ser Lannister." He interrupted her gently, and her eyebrow rose in inquiry.

"Would you prefer to be called, 'Kingslayer' then? You see, I refuse to call you by your first name after how you embarrassed me in front of my Lady Midwife." Jaime pursed his lips and shook his head.

"No, my Lady Snow . . . Ser Lannister is fine, I suppose . . ." He could see how Jon had fallen so head-over-heels in love with this woman. Her tongue was as barbed as her mind was sharp and her eyes alone could cut diamonds. He had no doubt in his mind that Gabrielle was like Catelyn Stark in the ideal that she would cut the throat of anyone who dared challenge or harm someone she held dear to her.

Gabrielle nodded and resumed where he had interrupted her.

"You were well aware of whom my husband was, Ser Lannister, and yet you continued to act like a love-struck schoolboy in my presence!" Jaime grinned.

"But my Lady Snow, you _are_ beautiful! I simply cannot understand how you cannot see that a man cannot help _but_ fall in love with you on first sight?" Gabrielle pursed her lips.

"That is not the point, Ser Lannister -!"

"Tell me, my most beautiful and gracious Lady Snow . . . from whence do your parents hail from?" Gabrielle was immediately taken aback by the question and she could not help but stutter out a response.

"I can't see how that's any of your business, Ser Lannister! But if you insist on inquiring, my father was born and raised in the North whereas my mother is a Lady from a far off province. They met one day in Kings Landing and the rest is history from there. Why do you inquire?" Jaime Lannister smiled graciously as he stepped closer to her. He gently ran a finger down her cheek and smiled as she immediately blushed.

"I have substantial evidence that leads me to believe that you are half of something that is not from Westeros, my Lady. And speaking earlier of desire, you really want to know why I am so _in love _with you, as you so blatantly put it? All day, I am surrounded by fair-haired, light skinned women whom are so dreadfully _boring_! When I saw you standing across from me in the courtyard, I immediately knew the rumors about you would be true . . . you were fiery; you were different than the boring women back in King's Landing. You were . . . _exotic_!"

"You know what they say, Ser Lannister . . . believe nothing of what you hear and only half of what your see!" Jaime chuckled a little as he gently ran a thumb over her lips.

"Yes, but these rumors are going to prove true, this I know for sure. Not-to-mention, your blood . . . is what intrigues me now. Your blood is what makes me want to possess you, body and soul, Lady Snow. Whether it is just lust or me wanting to be purely selfish and take the only thing from Jon Snow that he has left, I do not know. What I do know is that I will have you, Lady Snow . . . whether you like it or not, whether your bastard husband likes it or not, you will eventually be in my bed." A look of barely hidden fury appeared in her eyes.

"Your impudence will be paid for, Ser Lannister! I will have you locked up and beaten for your impudence!" She hissed, and he couldn't help but allow his grin to grow just a tiny bit bigger.

"Whips or chains, sweetheart, make your choice . . . they all have the same effect on me."

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><p>The village of Winterfell still looked the same six months later. It still held the same smells of tanned leather and the rich smells of the blacksmiths bellows and baking bread. Gabrielle missed casually wandering the streets of Winterfell, gazing in pity at the beggar children and the blind crones that called that they could tell you your fortune for just a sixpence. Gabrielle smiled to herself as she took in the sights and the same smile was still held on her face when she reached the door to her childhood home. She ran a finger lovingly down the mahogany frame of the door leading to her father's workshop, her delicate fingers running over the notches in the wood marring its surface from when they would measure how much she had grown over the years.<p>

She stepped over the threshold and into the sweltering heat of the workshop, her and Maharet flipping down their hoods as they entered. They gazed around the shop, their eyes moving over the cooling utensils and newly made weapons and armor sitting in the nearby tub of cool water, to the big, hulking man working the bellows. His inky black hair shone in the fierce light of the fire and when Gabrielle called out his name, he immediately stopped and turned around. He beamed and upon hastily wiping his hands off on the rag he kept tied to his belt loop, swept her up in a twirling embrace, careful of the large swell of her belly.

He set her down and planted a soft, loving kiss to her forehead, a tear moving down both of their cheeks. "Ah, my daughter . . . you have returned. I trust you are well taken care of up in Castle Winterfell?" Gabrielle nodded fiercely, her eyes alight with a fiery passion.

"Of course, father! Jon is a wonderful husband, dutiful, loving . . ." She placed a hand on the smooth swell of her still growing stomach. "We are expecting a child, as well, father." A light appeared in Manfred Pournell's eyes and he grinned and planted another soft kiss to his daughter's forehead.

"Congratulations, my daughter. May you and Lord Snow's marriage be blessed with many a healthy child! Now tell me, is there a reason for your long overdue visit?" Gabrielle nodded.

"Yes, how is mother?" Manfred shrugged.

"She is better. She is lucid and up and about, if that is what you mean." Gabrielle nodded.

"I need to see her, father . . . I need to talk to her." Manfred nodded and gestured to the door leading to their humble abode.

"Yes, of course . . ."

He moved to the door and opened it, where he led them inside. He called for Gabrielle's mother and they found her in the kitchen. Amanra Pournell, Gabrielle's exotically beautiful mother, was bustling around the kitchen sink, chopping up vegetables for the stew that was currently boiling above the fire in the fireplace. She too beamed when she caught sight of her daughter, and moved over to her, where she kissed her twice, on both cheeks.

"_Galambom_ (1) how are you! I see you are with child! Congratulations!" Gabrielle nodded as she moved to sit down at the rickety dinner table located in the kitchen. Maharet sat down beside her and once Amanra had served them all tea, sat down in front of her daughter. Gabrielle was the one who started the conversation.

"Mother, that language . . . the language that you always used around the house . . . from whence does it hail from?"

Amanra, whose hair and skin and eyes were as dark as her daughter's, was long considered an exotic beauty amidst all the fair-skinned, dark-haired women of the North. Her mother shrugged however.

"What language?" Gabrielle gazed at her pointedly.

"Mother, please! _Galambom,_ _gyorsan (2) . . . _those words are not used in any language in Westeros that I or Maharet knows of! Mother, what language is it?" Amanra pursed her lips for a moment before she sighed and pushed her tea cup awake. She folded her lightly wrinkled hands in front of her and gazed at her daughter for a moment before replying.

"It is . . . it is the language of the Dothraki," She swallowed heavily. "It is the language of our ancestors . . . of our family that still resides amongst the Dothraki Sea." Gabrielle and Maharet blinked a couple of times in a stunned silence before Maharet chose to break it.

"Forgive me Lady Pournell, but that is impossible! Nobody has ever crossed the sea into Dothraki lands and lived to tell the tale!" Amanra gazed at her in smug self-approval.

"Not if you are from the Dothraki, my Lady . . . which I am. I was born and raised amongst the Dothraki, my Lady, and fled here when an injustice was made to me. It is here that I met Gabrielle's father and conceived Gabrielle." Gabrielle continued to gaze at her mother in shock as her mother passionately continued,

"I am the honored sister of the late Khal Bharbo and the honored aunt to the current Khal, Drogo." Gabrielle pursed her lips, anger roiling over her in waves.

"You kept this from me all this time, mother!" She demanded of her, and Amanra gazed at her daughter in slight hurt.

"I did it to protect you daughter! I did it to keep from wanting to go out to find them! The Dothraki are a cruel, harsh race, one that makes or breaks you."

"And it broke you, I see!" Amanra drew herself up at her daughter's harsh words, a fierce look of pride on her beautiful, yet middle-aged face.

"I escaped, my daughter, because I was betrothed to a cruel man that only wanted me because of my beauty and my family's ability to bear frequent sons, something that you surely would have suffered if I had not left and bore you there, amongst those cold, harsh people. I never told you because I did not want you to suffer the harsh injustices that I would have had growing up. In order to be something in that world, to have a mind, an opinion, to earn respect, you must have three things: a sword, a cock and a horse, neither three of which I had!" She paused for a moment to catch her breath, her eyes fiercely strong and angry as she continued,

"I did not tell you because I thought that you would be ashamed to have a mother who ran, who defied her father and mother to escape. I am happy to see that you are still somewhat of the immature _gyermeck_ (3) that you once were!" Gabrielle recoiled slightly.

"I could never be ashamed of you, mother. I'm just angry that you never told me!" Amanra shot her a scathing look out of the corner of her eye.

"I never told you because you never asked!"

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><p><strong>1 – My Dove<strong>

**2 – Quickly**

**3 – Child**


	11. Chapter 10

**Yay! Birth chapter! :)**

**There was a MAJOR mistake in this chapter which has been pointed out to me and in which I have promptly fixed ;)**

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><p>The pain was intense.<p>

Gabrielle had never in her short life experienced anything like it and she never wanted to again. She screamed with all her might as the pain overcame her again; drowning her mind with nothing but pain, and her hands squeezed and grabbed at the hands of her Ladies until her knuckles grew white. Two of her Ladies, Eveline and Melitta clung to her hands as she sobbed and screamed with the rising and falling of the pain.

Eveline stroked her mistress's forehead with a cool cloth as Melitta whispered encouragement and soothing words to her. Jon himself paced worriedly outside the bedchamber with his father and Robb at his side, who spoke soothing words to him the entire time. He had got an ear-full of nagging from Maharet earlier to stay outside the room when he begged to be in there with her when the baby came. Maharet argued that the birth was woman's work, a place where a man was not welcomed until the babe was finally born, and Jon found that he could not disagree with the midwife, especially with one who was spitting hellfire and brimstone because her patient had been in birth for a day now with no crowning of the baby.

"I cannot . . . I cannot do this . . ." Gabrielle shook her head and looked to her Maharet kneeling by the foot of the bed. She was tired . . . so tired. She had been in labor for a day now, with no sign from the baby that told them that it was soon to be bored. She was exhausted and tired of the pain.

Maharet smiled, merely smiled at her mistress as Gabrielle held fast to Eveline and Melitta's hands. "You must hold on, my Lady! Your child depends on you most in this moment, Gabrielle!" She did not need to speak any more. Gabrielle's child had become her life in those short nine months during which she carried him, and she would die for him, this she was completely sure of.

The sun had finally begun to set on the second day as a second, tinier scream came from the bedchamber. Jon stopped his pacing and looked to the door, staring at it for a few moments with an anxious look to the eye. The scream came again and tears burst to his eyes as he beamed.

"I am a father! I'm finally a father!"

Ned grinned broadly and embraced his son. The pair rejoiced with Robb joining them a few minutes later, the two men grinning and congratulating Jon after every other word that came out of their mouth.

Within the room, Gabrielle breathed in deeply and looked to Maharet as she held her child, cleaning him of the unneeded filth from the birth. She finished with the procedure and gently wrapped him in a soft blanket before she brought the child to Gabrielle. She placed the child gently in its mother's arms and smiled kindly at her mistress.

"You indeed have a son, my Lady Snow." She smiled at her as Melitta and Eveline immediately began fawning over the newborn baby boy. Gabrielle could only cry as she looked into her baby son's now calm face, which was now so content that he was in her arms. She then looked to the beaming Maharet who commented on how his eyes were as blue as the sky.

"Can you go get Jon, Maharet?" Maharet smiled at her and nodded before she went out to the presence chamber, ushering him in like a clucking mother hen, Ned and Robb trailing in behind Maharet. Jon approached the bed slowly, his eyes upon Gabrielle and the swaddle of blankets struggling in her arms, begging for attention from its mother. As he neared the bed, Gabrielle gently pushed his son into his arms, where she smiled weakly.

"He is yours completely, Jon . . ." She looked to him and saw a tear finally fall down his cheek as he looked into his son's face. He shook his head in wonderment before Jon looked into Gabrielle's eyes and then nodded his head, a joyful, adoring look replacing the look of wonderment. "You have done well, my love." He told her quietly as he pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. He placed their son back into her arms, a smile still on his face.

"Come Jon, we'll take you down for a drink! We'll both rejoice in the good birth of your son and in the good health of Gabrielle! Hell, the whole of Winterfell will rejoice!" Ned's voice carried loudly around the room as he wrapped an arm around Jon's shoulders, Robb smiling tightly from over by the door. The Ladies couldn't help but giggle at the excitement of their Lord, although they could see that Jon and Gabrielle were merely content to just be together in their son's presence. Jon smiled an apologetic smile and shook his head.

"Sorry da, but can I stay with Gabrielle?" Ned nodded understandably as he clapped him on the back.

"Of course you can, Jon! I'll save you a pint, and I expect that baby to be in my arms tomorrow morning so I can show him off to the court!" Gabrielle smiled indulgently and nodded.

"Of course, Ned, I would expect nothing different!" She assured him, and Ned smiled kindly and nodded as he bowed to them. He then put a hand on Robb's shoulder, where he swept him from the room, the door shutting closed behind him.

"He is a very beautiful child, Gabrielle." Jon spoke when his father and half-brother left the room, leaving them relatively alone. He sat at her side, still gazing into his son's face and Gabrielle turned her face to smile up at her husband. Actually, beamed was more like it.

"He is, is he not, Jon? Look at those blue eyes! He has my father's eyes, and that _hair_!" She sighed then in contentment. There had never been more love in her heart then in those moments, and she could tell Jon felt the same. Those long nine months of morning sickness, back pain and sore joints had been more than worth it.

Melitta and Eveline, who it was now their job to start cleaning up the room, noticed it first. Melitta turned her head to look at Gabrielle's stomach, her delicate brows immediately knitting together in confusion. Eveline, who had clean white sheets in her arms, fallowed her fellow Lady's gaze down to Gabrielle's stomach, which had still not went down to its normal size after the birth.

"Why is her stomach not down?" Melitta asked Eveline quietly. "Should her stomach not be down? She has had the baby . . ."

Eveline looked at her friend and fellow Lady for a moment, their brows knitted in confusion before one of dawning recognition appeared on Eveline's. She dropped the sheets on the floor and ran over to Maharet, who was busy filling the nearby basin with the warm water that they would use to clean Gabrielle when they were ready, and Eveline pulled the aging woman back over to Gabrielle.

"There is another baby! Gabrielle, Jon, Maharet, there is another baby!"

Gabrielle and Jon looked at her in confusion for a moment before Gabrielle suddenly squeezed her eyes shut and gritted her teeth to keep from screaming out as even more contractions came. Maharet quickly shoved the pitcher of warm water into Eveline's hands and Gabrielle latched onto Jon's hand and screamed as Maharet skillfully guided the second crying baby out of the mother's womb.

Jon smoothed back his wife's brow and kissed her on the forehead when the baby immediately started crying again. Maharet beamed for a second time as she held up another crying, fiercely struggling baby. Gabrielle had tears in her eyes and held out her arms whilst Jon looked stunned. Sure, they had joked about her having twins when they would play around with baby names, but never, in a million years, would Jon actually believe that she would have them!

Maharet carefully cleaned the second baby before handing it off to the mother. Jon took ahold of his son and rocked him gently as he leaned back down to gaze at his second child. The child's eyes were blue too, and its hair was as black as its parents' and brother's. They were identical twins.

"Congratulations, Lady Gabrielle . . . you have indeed delivered your husband twins! You have a beautiful little girl and a handsome baby boy." Jon and Gabrielle laughed then and couldn't stop laughing, long after their son and daughter had moved into a restless, fitful sleep after feeding. They had them . . . their Lark and Nathaniel, two beautiful and strong names for their children that seemed a testament towards anyone who dared to question the paternity of Jon's children.

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><p>"I hear that the Lady Snow has delivered a set of twins . . . a boy and a girl, is this true?" Ned Stark nodded and glanced at his wife, who was sitting by the fire doing needlepoint.<p>

"Yes, fraternall twins although they look remarkably alike. They are beautiful, Catelyn . . . simply beautiful. Both of them have eyes as blue as the ocean and with hair as black as midnight." Catelyn sighed.

"Every baby is born with blue eyes, Ned, you know that." Ned sighed and pursed his lips as he gazed pointedly at his wife.

"When is this going to end?" He demanded of her shortly and Catelyn turned her eyes onto her husband, a look on innocence on her face.

"When is what going to end, Ned?" He laughed a little and glanced away before turning his eyes back onto her.

"This vendetta you have against him! The vendetta you have acquired for Gabrielle and the vendetta I _know_ you will acquire for Nathaniel and Lark. When is this going to end?" Catelyn sighed as she went back to her needlepoint.

"I simply have no idea what you are talking about, Ned." Ned groaned loudly as he stood and moved over to his desk, where slammed his fist on the face. Catelyn jumped at the rare show of irritation coming from her husband and gazed at him, her eyes slightly wide with fear as he rounded on her.

"I demand to know what game you are playing with them, Catelyn! Jon is happy, why can you not allow him to be!" He demanded of her, and Catelyn pursed her lips and gazed at him angrily.

"You want to know why, Ned? Here's why . . . you spend more time with that bastard son of Whylla's, than you do with your own, legitimate children. I am getting sick of it Ned! What did Whylla have that I did – do – not!" Ned pursed his lips as well as he held Catelyn's steely gaze. "Were you just sowing your wild oats, which I can fully understand, or was there something more between you two? Was there something else that I could not perceive?" Ned shook his head as he turned back to his desk, his back towards her so that she could not see his hand slipping into his pocket to clutch at the golden cameo of Whylla in his pocket.

"There was a reason, Catelyn . . . a reason that for the life of you, you will never understand nor learn of. The only one I will ever tell, is Jon, and I will tell him when he is ready." Catelyn scoffed.

"Tell him what? That his mother was a whore?" Ned gritted his teeth.

"Whylla was not a whore, Catelyn, you know that well!"

"Then what was she, Ned? She had to be something in order to keep you from my bed for a year!" Catelyn was getting angry now, which reflected clearly in her voice tone. Ned shook his head.

"For the love of the Gods, Catelyn, I love you, and Whylla is in my past. Why can't you leave it there!" Catelyn sighed.

"Because every day that, that boy lives and breathes and breeds, is another voice in my head telling me that I will never be free of Whylla . . . that our marriage will never be free of her, and as long as her memory lives on within you, you will never love me as you have once loved her. As you still love her."


	12. Chapter 11

**OMG, I'm so, so, a million times sorry for not updating in a decade it seems like! Its just that I just moved into a new house, a house that does not internet, so I've been getting on the internet whenever I can, which is rare LOL. I am getting internet in the next week or so, so when I do, I'll be updating a lot more, I promise! **

**- Nagiana**

**PS. From this chapter on, what I think I'm gonna do is start doing seperate POV's like the novels, but I may switch back, determining on whether or not I like this idea after a few chapters**

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><p><em>Lady Catelyn Stark's POV . . .<em>

Lady Catelyn now knew with an absolute certainty, that she despised the Lady Gabrielle Snow with a deep, roiling hate. She despised her piousness, her kindness when it came to the people of Winterfell and the undeniable love that her husband's dratted bastard held for her, as well as the love and respect her husband held her in. She especially hated their children. The children that Ned Stark adored, the children that was as beautiful as their mother and who grow to be even prettier as every month went by.

She hated the thought of looking like a fool, at being made to look like a simple jealous wife. It had been a long time since she had received any marriage proposal for her children and she knew that until she did, Gabrielle and Jon grew closer to being the only things in Ned's life that he cared about, Lark and Nathaniel, his pride and joys. How many times had she sat at the high table at dinner, Robb sitting beside her, watching sullenly as Ned slunk through the crowds, Lark or Nathaniel in his arms so that he could show them off to beaming and fawning noblemen, women and courtiers. How many times had she been acutely aware of Jon and Gabrielle sitting a little ways off, beaming at their good fortunes, their hands clasped and every once in a while, those clasped hands would meet Jon's lips in a loving kiss, his eyes shining his love for her like a lighthouse beacon in the dead of night.

She could feel herself becoming bitter. She could feel herself becoming the very thing that she despised in women, and she could feel her roiling hatred of Jon grow bigger and bigger with every favor bestowed on him and his family. She felt it grow bigger with every summons from the King to Ned and Jon to join him on his latest hunt or a summons from the Queen Cersei to Gabrielle requesting her presence as one of her ladies whenever a foreign dignitary would come to visit. She especially hated every rumor that flitted around the palace of Gabrielle becoming with child again, something that occurred twice every moon it seemed and in which drew a nail even further into her and Ned's marriage, and which made Gabrielle and Jon happiness even larger and brighter until it threatened to burn them all in its wake.

"She's pretty . . . what about her?"

Catelyn was brought out of her thoughts by her son nodding towards a petite redhead moving through the crowd wearing a dress of shimmering emerald green satin. Catelyn Stark shook her head.

"Her father was a drunkard and her mother was accused of witchcraft and burned at the stake in King's Landing for it . . . her reputation associated with us alone would ruin any further prospects for the children." Robb sighed, his irritation evident.

"Mother . . ."

"I'm telling you, I have someone in mind, it is just taking a while!" She snapped at him, her eyes cold as she gazed at Jon and Gabrielle, and Robb pursed his lips before he shook his head.

"I don't understand why you hate them so much mother. I mean, yes, Jon does embody every sin of father's, but Gabrielle is innocent, especially Lark and Nathaniel! I cannot understand -"

"It was because you were meant to have her, Robb!" Catelyn snapped at her. "It is because the Queen adores her, the King adores Jon. He offers them title after title, reward after reward, everything that should be yours by right! Jon is a bastard and he should be treated as such . . . not as Ned's heir." Catelyn's eyes skipped over to the royal family sitting a few feet off, the King and Queen in the middle, the rest of the court fallowing suit as protocol and title afforded.

Robb shook his head. "I don't think that's entirely it mother . . . there's something deeper, something that you have to move on from -!"

"You will be silent! I will not speak further of this, Robb!" Catelyn hissed at him, her eyes like flint as she gazed at her son. Robb in turn, gazed at her like she had two heads. "I will not allow your position, your future title as Lord of Winterfell, to be usurped by your father's bastard son and his sons! If you do not agree and ally yourself with me . . ." She adopted a look of deep sadness on her face then. "Then you're not my son."

Robb could not believe what he was hearing, and his incredulity showed clearly on his face as he gazed at her. His mother had hated Jon, sure, but now, she was almost deranged in her hatred of him. He didn't know what brought this about, but he flat-out refused to allow her insecurities to taint his friendship with Jon and Gabrielle, nor his love for his nephew and niece.

"Mother . . . do you hear yourself when you talk? Can your hatred of Jon truly and singly stem for your hatred of his mother? I mean, everyone has a slip, why is father no different?" Catelyn sighed impatiently and shook her head.

"You don't understand, Robb, you weren't there! When Whylla came to Winterfell, she was . . . I knew she was different. She was beautiful, dark and exotic, with olive skin and the blackest hair you would have seen on a woman without crossing the seas into Dothraki lands. It's the color of Gabrielle's actually . . ." She trailed off for a moment, gazing at the couple as she continued,

"She came to be a handmaiden to me. She was chaste, pious but seductive and I was pregnant with you when she first came. Ned fell for her immediately and it was sickening. He was so very handsome back then, the most handsome man in the Kingdom. He was tall and fit his hair a thick chocolate brown and the most intelligent grey eyes set in such a handsomely carved face that it seemed like the very angels made him from immaculate stone . . . I loved him dearly, and I thought he loved me too, but I was sorely mistaken when Whylla came. I had to sit there and watch and do nothing as my husband fell in love with her, as he chased her and my other ladies through the gardens with his courtiers and friends, zeroing in on her _every time _the game was played. I had to watch as his arms wrapped around her tiny waist when he caught her, how the breath would catch in her throat and her hands would fly to his laying on her bodice . . . I had to watch . . . as the desire darkened their eyes and how he would pull her closer to him . . ." Catelyn Stark trailed off then, and Robb swallowed heavily.

"Go on . . ."

"Gossip flies fast through these hallowed walls, Robb, something you will learn quickly in due time. So knowing that, I had to sit there and pretend that I did not hear the gossip of how my husband had passionately taken Whylla to his bed, me embarrassed and swollen with pregnancy. I had to ignore the way he would go to her first whenever he would enter my rooms, how he would tip her head up with his finger under her chin and kiss her so sweetly, so lovingly . . . the kisses that were always reserved to me and which were now being pressed to the olive-colored flesh of the darkly beautiful Whylla. He had chased her so hard, fell for her so fast that it was not long before she too, was expecting a child . . . Jon."

Catelyn sighed and closed her eyes as she wearily shook her head. "Even in pregnancy and birth I was still not spared. I had to suffer the compliments and statements of Whylla growing even prettier as her pregnancy progressed, as a glow appeared to her skin that made her look like a heavenly being. And when you and Jon were born, mere months from each other, I could not escape the gasps and awes that Jon received, and not you. Jon was a beautiful baby, strong and healthy, with a hair of curly black hair and a hardy cry that overshadowed everything pertaining to your birth. Not-to-mention, he looked and acted liked a Stark through-and-through and was treated as a Prince thanks to that. I would never be free of her, it seemed."

"But something happened didn't it? Something that made Whylla disappear?" Catelyn nodded, but refused to answer, her eyes on Ned Stark, who approached Gabrielle and Jon, where he bowed slightly. Her eyes darkened when he saw the expression on his face. It was the expression he would get when he approached Whylla, not by a long-shot, but it was still an expression of respect and adoration . . . some things he had not shown her in a very long time.

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><p><em>Jaime Lannister's POV . . .<em>

Jaime Lannister couldn't bear to tear his eyes away from the beautiful Gabrielle twirling on the dance floor, that milksop Eddard Stark's arm wrapped around her waist, his other hand holding hers in a gentle grasp. Grins were on their faces, laughter bubbling forth from their throats, and Gabrielle's head was thrown back, baring her long, pale, swan-like neck for all to see. Jaime had to admit that Eddard Stark seemed twenty years younger than he was when he was around his wife. It seemed Gabrielle's beauty was so great that it made everything else around her beautiful, although Jaime, as a skilled Lothario himself, could see the skillfully hidden desire in Ned's face as he gazed down at his luscious daughter-in-law. Jaime chuckled quietly to himself, his hand moving to cover his grin. He had to commend Ned. If it was him, he would have his son's wife in his bed post haste. But Ned was too good, too pious to act on his feelings and his cock anymore. He had done that already and look where it got him with his wife.

Jaiime continued to gaze at Gabrielle, hardly believing that the woman had given birth just three months ago. Her body was lithe again and corded beautifully with muscle that bespoke of many hours in the saddle; not at all like the chaste, courtly women back in King's Landing whose bodies betrayed how many children they had, had in their lives. Her long legs – which were outlined through the thin, rustling fabric of her blood red velvet dress – were beautifully shaped and her breasts were beautifully shaped as well, full and ample and firm from the birth of her children. She was as lithe as a young, athletic filly, and Jaime soon found his mind wandering elsewhere, wondering if she could sit a man as well as she could no doubt sit a galloping warhorse. His cock hardened at the thought and he pursed his lips and cursed quietly as he looked away. The Gods damn Gabrielle Snow and her Dothraki allure!

Jaime was brought out his thoughts by his best friend since childhood, Gerrick Brandon, elbowing him roughly in the ribs. He let out a grunt and gave his friend a mean grin, who merely grinned back at the slightly infuriated look on Jaime Lannister's face.

"What in the bloody Hell was that for?" Jaime hissed under his breath, and Gerrick shrugged as he took a gulp of his wine.

"You shouldn't stare, it's rude . . ." Gerrick then shifted to get a better look at Jaime's crotch and immediately let out a snorted chuckle as he returned to his chalice of wine. "It's also rude to get an erection too, but then again, that's just you, I suppose." Jaime snorted and grabbed up his chalice of wine, where he took a hearty gulp, thinking of anything that could quickly calm his boiling blood, but the images of Gabrielle in increasingly naughty poses with him could not be banished from his mind.

"Oh like you aren't staring at the beautiful Gabrielle Snow too! You've had as many women as I have, Gerrick! You continue to do so, actually." Gerrick laughed heartily at that.

"I'm not denying a thing . . . but I'm not obvious about it either. I daresay the good Queen Cersei is giving you glares of death and daggers, my friend." Jaime and Gerrick turned to gaze at the Queen sitting across the way, who was indeed glaring at her lover and brother with a look of poisoned daggers. Jaime smiled and raised his chalice to her, but she scoffed and looked away to talk to her daughter. Gerrick shook his head as he went back to gazing at Gabrielle, Jaime fallowing suit. The song had ended and Ned Stark graciously handed the ravishing Gabrielle over to Jon, who smiled and bowed to his father, who bowed back.

Jaime sighed and shook his head. "I don't know about you, Gerrick, but she could ride my horse any day . . . the faster the better and anywhere in the room she wanted to . . ." Gerrick grinned a shit-eating grin and laughed.

"I wouldn't joke about that, my friend. My informants here in the Castle can tell quite the tales about the love-life of the two Snows. From what I heard from one, her Dothraki blood runs deeper than she has ever realized. She is a very skilled horse rider and is also very skilled in riding something else in the bedchamber, if you get my meaning . . ." Gerrick took another gulp of his wine, Jaime fallowing suit. "She's also quite good with her mouth from what I've heard . . ." Jaime coughed into his wine at his friend's words, Gerrick breaking out into another peal of laughter. "You are never going to get rid of that thing tonight, aren't you?" He asked teasingly, and Jaime shot him another glare of daggers, and Gerrick chuckled as he turned to charmingly converse with a very pretty blonde noblewoman sitting beside him.

Jaime, however, kept his eyes on the beautiful Gabrielle, his imagination suddenly awash with images of Gabrielle with her head thrown back, beautifully enticing moans emanating from her mouth as she did indeed prove how deeply her Dothraki blood runs.


	13. Chapter 12

**Okay, I know a few of my loyal readers are going to not exactly like this chapter, but it deals with the first huge fight in Jon and Gabrielle's marriage and I think its going to be something of a catalyst for other things happening in their marriage later on (jaime Lannister for one ;)) and I think I did a pretty good job on it, nonetheless, but that might just be me and my weird talent for writing good fight scenes :)**

**- Nagiana**

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><p><em>Gabrielle Snow's POV . . .<em>

Gabrielle's moans split through the air, her hand beating against the wall as Jon thrusted roughly behind her, his hands on her hips, pulling her into each thrust, his moans quickly melding together with hers. It was impossible to think, to feel anything but him inside of her, the feel of his hands on her waist, her hips, pulling her into him, lodging him deep inside of her, the pressure of it all. Her eyes squeezed shut and her mouth opened in an 'O' as she came, her head falling between her arms whose hands were pressed into the wall as wave after wave of torrential orgasm flushed through her body, setting all her nerve endings on fire. Jon came not soon after his wife did, letting out a roar as he came inside of her. He collapsed afterwards, his forehead pressing against the small of her back and his eyes clenched shut as they both tried desperately to catch their breath.

"Oh Gods Jon that was . . . that was . . ." Gabrielle breathed, trailing off, at a loss at what to say to him, and she felt Jon grin and laugh, his stomach quaking against her as he laughed.

"Vigorous? Visceral . . . _primal_?" He suggested, and Gabrielle nodded and laughed.

"I vote for all three. You seemed to handle it well, though." She replied, and Jon laughed and nodded as he pulled out of her and fell back on the bed, his chest still heaving as he slowly caught his breath. She sat back on her haunches, gazing down at her husband, at his flushed, sated, handsome face and gently heaving chest to the now flaccid cock between his legs. After a while she moved to lie beside him and he nodded.

"Yeah, I think I did pretty well." He finally answered her, and they laughed again as they kissed, passionately, languidly, and Jon's arms moving to wrap around her to hug her close. Gabrielle reluctantly broke apart after a moment and buried her face in his neck, sighing in contentment from their recent exertions.

"What brought out the animal, Jon?" She asked him curiously, and Jon grinned.

"Depends . . . why do you wanna know?" He could feel Gabrielle grinning into his neck, her lips pressing against the soft skin located there.

"I want to know how to do it again." Jon laughed and raised himself on his elbow above her, where he gazed into her eyes.

"I don't know, I think it was . . . everyone looking at you at dinner tonight, I don't know. I guess . . . it turned me on knowing that every woman wanted to be you and every man wanted you. You're just . . . so beautiful and so alluring . . ." Gabrielle grinned as she gazed at him, distinctly aware of his finger trailing down her collarbone, over her breasts, encircling one of her nipples.

"Really, is that so?" Jon grinned and nodded.

"Yeah . . . you and your . . . beautiful, Goddess-like body . . ." He made a trail of fire down her chest, over her breasts, briefly encircling a nipple with his tongue before he continued on, over the flat, corded plane of her stomach, and before he could reach her nether regions, Gabrielle teased him by cocking a leg up on the bed. He gazed up at her and sighed in playful impatience. Gabrielle grinned and laughed an emotion that quickly disappeared.

"Jon, I have to talk to you about something . . ." Jon nodded as he pressed his lips to the skin of her knee, the inside of her thigh that was still cocked up on the bed and she bit her bottom lip, unsure of how to continue.

"What do you need to talk about?" He asked his wife as he gently put her leg on his shoulder, kissing up the inside, growing closer and closer to her womanhood, her breath quickening as he did so. Gods, he was making this hard.

"Jon I . . . I need to . . . to tell you . . ." Her eyes closed in bliss as he buried his head between her legs, licking her swiftly, and she let out a moan before he steeled herself, put her hand on his shoulder and pushed him away. A startled look appeared on his face as he gazed up at her and she shook her head.

"No way, you are not getting out of this." She told him and Jon rolled his eyes and moved up her body, where he folded his hands on her stomach and gazed up at her. She moved her leg off his shoulder to lie on the bed beside him, and he smiled gently.

"You have my full attention, sweetheart." Gabrielle nodded and looked down.

"Queen Cersei has asked me to become her head Lady." She told him, and for a moment, Jon laid there, the same smile still on his face but then it dissolved and a look of slight anger appeared on his face.

"Wait, what?"

"She offered you a position too . . . and Ned and Robb. You three would be part of King Robert's advisors, the very heart of the kingdom -"

"You know how I feel about this, Gabrielle; we've talked about this!" He told her angrily as he moved off the bed to stand a few feet away. Gabrielle nodded a look of pleading to her eyes.

"I know, Jon, I know, but -"

"We have a family now, Gabrielle; we have Lark and Nathaniel, our children! You do remember them, don't you? We have to take care of them; we have to raise them to be good, honest people. How the Hell do you propose we do that at the court at fucking King's Landing!"

"At least there we won't have Catelyn breathing down our necks!"

"I'd rather have fucking Catelyn threatening to castrate me with a rusty kitchen knife before I'd go to fucking King's Landing!" He roared at her, and Gabrielle recoiled, a slightly hurt look on her face. It had been the first time she had ever heard Jon talk to her like that, much less hear that tone of his voice.

Jon, knowing immediately that he hurt her, pursed his lips in irritation. He stood there for a moment, gazing at her. He then took a deep breath and slowly let it out. "This wouldn't have anything to do with fucking Jaime Lannister, would it?" Gabrielle immediately shook her head.

"No, Jon, I just want our children to grow up in an environment -"

"You want them to grow up in what kind of environment, Gabrielle?" Jon demanded of her, his rage coming back quickly again. "The kind of environment that made a Prince Jauffre who is as ill as a hornet and who is not fit to shine his own father's shoes, much less sit on his throne? Or the environment that made those other milksop children of King Robert's and Queen Cersei's?" He demanded some more, and tears were starting to shine in Gabrielle's eye, although he would not quit.

"Yes, we have Catelyn here, but she is nothing compared to what would await us at King's Landing! Gabrielle, I've seen the way that fucking Jaime Lannister looks at you and I would rather die than let him see you on a daily basis, much less have the opportunity to be alone with you. I don't trust him for a minute, it's not you, and it's him! I love you, but I've _been _to King's Landing, and sweetheart, even the church mice are corrupted there! It is a place I would not choose to raise my children, even if it was the last place in Westeros!"

Gabrielle's jaw hardened. "Jon, I intended on going. I told the Queen that I was planning on returning to King's Landing with her." Jon let out a short, bark-like laugh as he put a hand to his forehead and the other to his waist, where he turned away and walked a couple of feet away, sarcastic laughter still bubbling forth from his lips.

"And when were you going to tell me this, Gabrielle!" He demanded as he turned around again, his face more than angry now. "When were you going to tell me that you were just going to take my children and up and leave me?" Gabrielle shook her head furiously, a frightened look on her face. She rose up on her knees before him, her hand outstretched as a plea of pacification.

"I never meant to do no such thing, Jon! I was going to tell you sooner but this dinner and tonight, it all screwed up my plans!" Jon nodded.

"Yeah, sure, Gabrielle, I wasn't born yesterday!"

"Jon, please, hear me out!"

Jon shook his head as he yanked on his clothes, pulled on his boots with more anger than he had originally intended. "I should have listened to da . . . I should have went to the Wall. I should never have gotten married . . ." Tears were falling down Gabrielle's cheeks freely now. Her heart pounded like a sledgehammer in her chest as she watched Jon do up the laces to his boots and when he was tying his cloak around him that was when she lunged up out of the bed and ran to him. Tears spilling down her cheeks like a waterfall, her hands flattened on his chest, her fingers digging into his clothes.

"Jon, please, I swear that this went better in my head! I did not plan it this way -!"

"I'll tell you what, Gabrielle!" Jon spoke loudly, successfully interrupting her, and she stopped speaking, even her sobs ceased. His eyes were as cold as flint as he gazed down at her. "You can go to King's Landing . . . take the children if you want . . ." Her eyes became wide as she gazed at him, but he shook his head. "But consider our marriage ended if you do . . . and that isn't a threat, my darling wife, it's a fucking promise."

He turned around and was about to leave, but her hand grabbed his. "Jon_, please_!"

When he answered her, his voice was dripping with venom and sarcasm. "I'm sorry Gabrielle, you'll have to forgive me . . . I just have a major problem with my wife wanting to take my children away from me without telling me."

It was then, as soon as those words left his mouth, that he swept from the room, leaving Maharet standing stricken in the doorway to the bedchamber, glancing after the retreating back of Jon Snow as his wife lay naked and sobbing pitifully on the floor where he had been standing moments ago.


	14. Chapter 13

**Yay! Make-up chapter, although it does end with a certain . . . forbodingness (did I spell that right?)**

**- Nagiana**

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><p><em>Jon Snow's POV . . .<em>

"I don't know what made me so angry, Maharet," Jon confessed quietly to his wife's lady-maid. They were walking through the gardens with Lark and Nathaniel, Jon's eyes trained on the stone path before them, Maharet's face and expression as cold as the melting snow. Lark and Nathaniel's eyes went everywhere, taking in much and missing few in their baby curiosity.

Maharet looked down at Jon's words. "I think you do, my Lord." She spoke quietly, and indeed, she had gotten the shock of her life when he entered the presence chamber of her Lord and Lady after hearing their roars and screams, thinking they were being attacked. But when she saw Jon sweep infuriated through the rooms, she knew something was wrong. The young couple had just had their first monumental fight, and it would take a while before one of them was allowed back into the bedchamber. But what she was unprepared for was walking into the bedchamber to see her most beloved Lady lying naked, sobbing her heart out on the floor. She knew she had pleaded with her husband for him not to go, but he had left anyway, leaving her in the spot she had been standing in.

Jon shrugged helplessly, and almost – _almost _– Maharet felt sorry for him. He knew what he had done how he had hurt her so deeply with his barbed, venom-laced words referring to the Wall, and he wanted dearly to repent from them, which was why he was walking and talking with Maharet now, to best learn how to beg forgiveness from his wife. "I think it was just the insinuation that Gabrielle might have left me without her counsel . . . done what my mother done; that pushed me over the edge."

"You should have listened to her."

"Yeah, I know, but I didn't, and that's why we're here talking. That's why I want her forgiveness. I was brash; I was stupid and so much more. I just want my wife back, Maharet, I don't care if she loves me, we can build back up to that, but all I want is her back!" Maharet nodded in understanding, although she did not answer him for a moment. Instead, they stopped at a stone bench by a small, rainbow Slaughterfish pond and she grinned brightly as she sat down and fetched Nathaniel. Jon had long sat down since then, and Maharet moved over to Jon, who gazed up at her with curiosity.

"Hold your son, my Lord . . ." Jon nodded as he held out his arms, taking his son in them with no hesitance. Nathaniel was growing big, his movements more animated, his mannerisms, which seemed to mirror his and his father's, became clearer. Jon smiled as he gazed down at his son and as Maharet sat down beside him holding Lark.

"I know you want forgiveness, my Lord, and I understand why you got so angry. You were only looking out for the interests of the children." Jon nodded.

"Thank you!" He said in clear relief, but Maharet help up a finger telling him to wait a moment, and she continued,

"But then you let your anger get the better of you. You said some things that did not need to be said and in which hurt deeply and in which you did not mean them. I know you were blinded by pain, but you _should_ have heard her side of the story, which she tried to do multiple times but in which you interrupted her!" Jon nodded.

"I know, Maharet, I know all of this! Why are you giving a history lesson?" Maharet smiled indulgently at the young Lord. She had no doubt Jon's intentions were good, he was, after all, a inherently good soul, who adored his wife and children and wouldn't think of hurting anyone he didn't absolutely need to. She did have a soft spot in her heart for Jon, but he young and cocksure but easily offended, and Maharet, who had lived far too long and who had raised three children of her own, could see that plain as day. Gabrielle, however, was another matter.

"I won't lie to you Jon . . . you wounded her. You wounded her badly and although she misses you and wants you back with all her heart, she cannot banish what you said to her, especially the things pertaining to the Wall. She risked everything for you, Jon, her family, her home . . . she does not want to think that she did that all in vain!" Jon nodded.

"Again, I know this Maharet, but like you said, I was only looking out for my children! King's Landing is not a place to raise them; I don't care what you say! They are my children; nothing will keep me from them! I love them, I love Gabrielle, but I do not think that this is the best course of action at the moment! For the love Gods, she gave birth like what, three, four, five months ago? I think she is not taking the time to become a mother, to slow down and enjoy what we have!" Maharet nodded.

"I understand, my Lord, I completely understand. But Gabrielle, she is . . . she was not born a noble like you Jon. She did not travel to King's Landing for summer vacation or to some other far off place! She wants to see the world, my Lord, and who are you to hold her back?"

"I am her husband, Maharet! Her husband who wants a wife, a mother to his children! What is the good for her to go traveling off if we have children here that needs her here with them? What am I supposed to do, pack her bags for her and standing on the steps blissfully waving goodbye while her children are crying and sobbing for her because they will not see her for months at a time?"

"My Lord, I think . . . may I speak freely?" Jon waved his hand, giving her permission, but he knew, deep down, he wouldn't like what she said. "My Lord, with all due respect, I think you are labeling Gabrielle with a label that you have long-since reserved for your mother. It is a label for the mother that abandoned you at the hands of a shrewd, unloving stepmother and then disappeared off the face of the earth, leaving you a motherless bastard with a father who loved you but did not know what to do with you, for he was suffering because of her quick departure too. I think that while your intentions are good, you cannot escape the raw hurt that you still feel thinking that your mother might be living somewhere else with a family of her own and who might have forgotten you, although I think it severely untrue; a mother never forgets her child. I think you are terrified that Gabrielle will repeat history."

Jon shook his head and swallowed hard as he gazed down at his son, who was now sleeping soundly in his father's arms, his thumb in his mouth. "I cannot . . . I don't know what to do, Maharet. I feel lost without her, without hope, without life. I want her back in my arms, I want to see her laugh again, smile again. But I know that she will never drop this and I am terrified that she will do as my mother done . . . I am afraid that she will get fed up with my pleas to stay and eventually get up and leave me and the children . . . or leave me alone. I am scared of so many things; I have never been as scared in my life!" Maharet smiled a small smile and wrapped her arms around Jon, hugging him close.

"My dear Lord, why are you telling me all this . . .? You should be telling this to Gabrielle!"

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><p>The presence chamber was quiet when Jon entered it, the only sounds of the crackling fire in the hearth across the way and the soothing quietness of Gabrielle doing needlepoint in a chair by the fire. He swallowed heavily when he saw her, but she made a point of ignoring him. She just continued on with her work, not acknowledging him even when he made a few steps toward her.<p>

"I thought you had gone . . ."

Her voice broke through any thoughts he was going through, and he shook his head as she continued,

"I thought you had gone to the Wall . . . like you said you should have. I thought you had left us." Jon shook his head.

"Gabrielle, that was rage talking -"

"So it was rooted in truth?" She demanded of him coldly as she finally set aside her needlepoint and gazed up at him. He saw the pain, the sadness, the fear echoing through her eyes, all veiled by indistinguishable rage at the man who had hurt her. Jon shook his head.

"That's not what I meant, Gabrielle -"

"Then what did you mean, Lord Snow?" She demanded harshly again, and Jon swallowed and shrugged.

"I don't know . . . maybe it was just fear talking. I've been afraid for so very long now, Gabrielle . . . I don't know what any other emotion is anymore," He then smiled and gave a little half-shrug. "I do know love, though. I do know what love is . . ." He moved and got down on his knees before her, where he sat at her feet and leaned his head and an arm on her lap. "Love is what I have for you, Gabrielle, for Lark and for Nate. I love you . . . I love you more than I love my own soul, and as for those words that I have said out of rage and fear . . . I cannot excuse them, I can only beg in the humblest sense, that you forgive me for them."

He looked up and saw tears shining in her eyes. He was genuine, she could tell from the way he gazed at her, that look of raw sadness and hurt that mirrored her own and the emotion in his voice. Yes, she too knew love and quite recently, she learned forgiveness.

"I thought . . . I thought so many things after you left!" She told him, her voice choked with the tears that she was trying her hardest to not shed. "I thought you had gone to your father begging for a divorce and to be sent to the Wall . . . I thought that at any moment the guards would rush in telling me to leave the castle with the children because we weren't wanted by you anymore . . . like you, I was scared of so many things."

Jon shook his head as he rose up on his knees and gently put his hands on her neck. He kissed her, tenderly, passionately, their breathes harsh through their noses and when they broke apart, Jon shook his head, feeling his love swell as he gazed down at her swollen lips and beautiful face shining with unshed tears.

"Gabrielle, I will never leave you . . . or the children. I don't regret a thing . . . especially marrying you." Gabrielle nodded thankfully, finally allowing the tears to fall as she fell into his arms, where he hugged her to him tightly.

"Oh thank the Gods! Thank the Gods! But don't ever do it again."


	15. Chapter 14

**Okay, I'm kinda veering away from the Jon/Gabrielle plotline for this chapter and although you all might be a little surprised at who this chapter contains, I do plan on one or more of the characters in this chapter to meet our beloved Jon and Gabrielle Snow later . . . perhaps with a little Jaime Lannister thrown in there to just make give him a job instead of standing around and looking pretty . . . but hey, whose complaining, right? :)**

**And another thing, I'm warning you now in case this bugs some people, but I am going to veer away from how a character is written in the book and the show because I wanted to portray him a little bit differently to suit my needs later on, but what the hell, this is fanfiction, right? ;)**

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><p><em>Daenerys Targaryen POV . . .<em>

The Tournament of Twin Bloods had finally come to Vaes Dothrak, making the young children run about in excitement and mothers and fathers primping their young daughters to better impress the victors of the various games. It was a Tournament made to show the most daring, the most powerful of all Dothraki, and people came from across the Dothraki Sea to attend. Horseraces, swordplay, wrestling, the Tournament was not only a test of stamina and strength, but also a test of willpower.

Ser Jorah Mormont and Daenerys walked through the thick crowds of the Tournament, Ser Jorah's hand on the hilt of his sword all the while and gazing warily around them as he walked. The crowds tried to part in order to make way for the honored _Khaleesi_ who was rumored to be carrying Khal Drogo's son, although there was little they could do with how packed they all were.

Daenerys felt Ser Jorah's hand gently grasp her upper arm, and she gazed up at the aging Knight with a look of curiosity. "The horse races are about to end _Khaleesi_ . . . many of the Khal's Bloodriders are participating, and the victor gets a special prize. Would you like to watch and see who comes in first?" Daenerys nodded in excitement and Jorah led the way through the crowds towards the horse races, nudging people out of the way as they moved.

When they got to the track, Daenerys was in awe over how large it way. Wider than five horses standing nose to tail and as long as the eye could see, it was a simple track of hard-packed dirt with pocks of weeds and grass growing here and there. When Sir Jorah nudged her and pointed in the distance, she could see the large dust cloud growing nearer and nearer at an alarming speed. They were coming in fast, the horses breathing in harshly through their noses and their hooves pounding against the ground, causing the massive dust cloud that billowed around them. Ser Jorah leaned down and nudged her again. She moved closer to him so that she could hear him,

"The one in the front, the one that is winning on the huge warhorse with the red eyes . . . that is Sula. She is the Khal's honored younger sister, a fellow Bloodrider and the wife to Quotho, the mother to their young son, Braska. She is infamous as the best horse rider in any _Khalasar_ and her hair is as long as her husband and brother's."

Daenerys watched her sister-in-law as she drew nearer to the finish line. She was indeed leading the pack by a long berth and Daenerys watched her awe. She had heard of Sula from her husband and the respect and love in his voice when he referred to his favorite sister was often enough for Daenerys to immediately wonder about the woman. She was a striking woman, as olive-skinned and black haired as her husband and brother and although her face was cruelly beautiful, her eyes were as hard and as cold as flint. Sky blue painted lines was on her face and she remembered Ser Jorah telling him that the paint was used to tell the difference between the Bloodriders during battle and during the Tournaments such as these, and she saw Quotho also held similar lines upon his face. She saw Sula's husband, the cruel, merciless Quotho standing not far away amidst the cheering crowd with their son, both cheering for her by use of the guttural Dothraki tongue.

Sula's warhorse was altogether another matter, however. He was a powerful beast, as large as any stallion that Khal Drogo owned, his black hooves the size of golden dinner plates and his eyes as red as the thickest blood staining the ground. He was pitch black, his mane and tail as thick and as black at his mistress's, his head of noble bearing.

Daenerys couldn't take her eyes away from the exotic, mysterious Sula, observing as she held the reins in one hand and used the other to whip her horse's rump behind her. One of the Khal's Bloodriders finally managed to catch up to her and surpassed her horse's alarming speed, but Sula let out a roar of indignant fury and gave one last whip to her horse's rump that cracked throughout the crowd. She sat back as her horse pounded across the finish line, surpassing even the Bloodrider that had caught up to her, winning her first place. Quotho and Braska's cheers for their wife and mother were deafening, as were the crowd's.

Daenerys saw the Khal motion to her from through the crowd, an act that did not go unnoticed by both her and Ser Jorah, who took her gently by the arm and steered her through the crowd to the Khal, his sister, Quotho and their son. As they neared, Daenerys saw just how massive Sula's horse really was. Easily standing eighteen hands high, he was an enormous horse, his head proud but his red eyes kind despite their alarming appearance. Daenerys gazed at the dinner-plate sized hooves of the horse, wondering how many enemy skulls had been crushed underneath them.

Quotho and their son immediately appeared at Sula's side, for she had yet to dismount from her horse, and when she did so, she dismounted into Quotho's strong arms, grinning as he caught her bridal style and then gently lowered her to her feet. Daenerys saw the tell-tale pregnancy bump underneath her tight armor and recoiled slightly as Sula grinned and bent down, where she pressed a loving kiss to her son's pitch black hair. He looked no bigger than six, and already, his hair was in a thick braid that fell to the small of his back. This woman knew no fear. How she could have participated in the races at that speed while pregnant, was unfathomable to Daenerys, yet alone win. Ser Jorah noticed her tense body language as she gazed at the young, growing family and immediately leaned down to explain things to her,

"Sula is such a proficient horsewoman and spends so much time one the back of Varterral there, that there are rumors circulating that Quotho's baby is going to be born on the back of that very warhorse, just like young Braska was. She is more comfortable on the back of Varterral than she is on the ground, in fact. If it wasn't that she needed to bow down to your husband to receive her gift, she would still be on Varterral's back. They say that horse loves her more than life itself and she in return. That is, until she met Quotho and became with child."

Daenerys watched, amazed at how Quotho's cruelty and mercilessness seemed to disappear as he embraced his wife, his hands caressing the stomach that housed his child that slumbered beneath his wife's heart as he kissed her gently, Sula's hand resting on the small back of Braska. It was like he was a completely different person than when he surrounded the Khal as a Bloodrider. Daenerys smiled a small smile as they finally neared the Khal, who immediately bent down and kissed Daenerys. Daenerys grinned and returned the kiss before he broke apart and gestured to Sula, was standing by her husband, a grin still on her beautiful face.

"Moon of my life, this is Sula . . . my honored sister, and her son, Braska," Sula smiled and nodded graciously as she bowed to her _Khaleesi_, Braska and her murmuring a polite greeting. Khal Drogo continued,

"She is one of the fiercest Bloodriders I have, no more proficient in the sword than I and Quotho are. They are also expecting their second child, as you can no doubt see . . ." In reply, Sula placed her hand on the smooth, small swell of her belly that became quickly covered by the larger callused one of Quotho's, and Daenerys nodded in understanding.

"I wish you luck." She told them, smiling kindly, and Sula smiled graciously and bowed again, Quotho's inclining his head in thanks. He still not like Daenerys, a fact that did not go unnoticed by both his Khal and _Khaleesi_.

Khal Drogo stepped forward, where he gestured for Sula to kneel before him. She did as requested, her head bowed in reverence to her Lord Brother and Honored Khal, and he placed his hand gently on her head, where he spoke a few guttural words in Dothraki, thanking her for her bravery in the horseraces and her good fortune with the Sky Father and the Great Stallion.

He then bid her to rise and turned around, where he took a bundle of wolf furs from a nearby Bloodrider. Sula furrowed her eyebrows in confusion as she gazed at her brother, who moved to stand in front of her, the wolf pelts lying in his arms. "This is a gift for your winnings, dear sister." He told her, and Sula nodded, accepting the gift as Quotho stepped forward and reverently opened the wolf pelts, revealing a beautiful golden bridle with intricate black embroidery. Sula couldn't help but gasp and Quotho's eyes grew wide as they gazed down at the golden bridle lying amidst flawless and expertly made white and black spotted wolf pelts. Braska breathed a 'wow' as he gazed upon the bridle. Daenerys stepped forward, smiling.

"The wolf pelts are a gift from me . . . to grace the cradle of your son." Sula nodded a thank-you to Daenerys and her brother, her eyes swimming with tears as her fingers ran shakily over the bridle with its intricate embroidery, over the softness of the beautiful black and white spotted wolf pelts. Quotho let out a short laugh, a grin spreading across his features as he too, laid a shaky hand on the gifts. Daenerys moved to the side, allowing another Bloodrider to step forward, a larger pile of wolf pelts in his arms, and these were a beautiful red orange. "And this is a gift to you, Quotho . . . for your years of loyal service as a stalwart warrior and Bloodrider, the furs, a gift to your son as a blanket to grace the back of his pony . . ."

With shaky hands, Quotho moved aside the edges of the fur blanket, revealing another golden weapon, this one a shining _arakh_. Quotho's eyes grew wide and he immediately dropped into a kneeling stance before Khal Drogo and Daenerys, murmuring thanks for the gifts as an awed murmur moved quickly through the crowds gathered there. Sula dropped down too, and after murmuring a reverent thank-you, gazed up at her brother expectantly.

"I have a gift as well, my brother." She spoke, her voice fluid and strong, unwavering. Khal Drogo furrowed his eyebrows in slight confusion and nodded. Sula's eyes darted to Daenerys as she spoke,

"With your permission, I would like to pay an honor the _Khaleesi _by pledging my life to her . . . as her first Bloodrider." A shocked murmur spread throughout the crowd and Daenerys, Khal Drogo and Quotho froze in shock at such a request. Bloodriders were well known as being extremely loyal to their Khal. Their blood was the Khal's blood and in the event of the Khal's death, they were to avenge his death and then fallow him into the grave. Knowing that, not many Bloodriders swore themselves to the _Khaleesi_, for not many could avenge a death at childbirth. This was an extreme shock, especially for the Khal's own sister.

But what shocked them even more, was that Khal Drogo slowly nodded his head in acquiescence. Sula bowed her head and murmured a reverent thank-you before Daenerys moved forward and held out her hands, Sula placing her hands on Daenerys's. Khal Drogo clasped them in his large hand and nodded.

"From this point forward, Sula, daughter of the late Khal Bharbo, our honored father, is the loyal Bloodrider of Daenerys, honored _Khaleesi_ . . ."

Sula stood upon nodding confidently, a small smile on her face as she gazed into Daenarys's eyes. Daenerys smiled back. Finally . . . she had a friend.

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><p><em>Sula's POV . . .<em>

Sula grinned and lay back on the bed, her hands covering her stomach as she watched her son and husband spar across from her in the large tent that they called their home. Her Lady, Etaine, smiled and went back to stirring the mutton stew in the body suspended over the fire pit off to one side of the tent. Etaine's eyes met Sula's and they both dissolved into a fit of giggles like two young schoolgirls, and indeed, they both had been friends since practically birth. Etaine's mother had been the beloved handmaiden to Sula and Drogo's own mother, and Etaine had been born within mere months of Sula. Etaine had been a gift from Drogo upon her marriage to Quotho, a gift in which Sula had been quite joyful to receive.

She heard a surprised, joyful squeal of Braska and turned to gaze back at Quotho and her son, only to grin upon seeing Quotho scooping the young boy up in his muscular arms and swinging him over his shoulder. He marched over to the bed, where he swung Braska down beside his mother, who, beaming, slid to the side and wrapped her arms around her son, who snuggled in his mother's arms. Quotho smiled and sat down beside them, his arm moving to wrap around her shoulders and draw her close to him, to press his lips against hers.

Sula grinned when they broke apart. "I thought you would have been angry with me for requesting to become the _Khaleesi's _Bloodrider." Quotho shook his head as he gently moved a lock of her black hair out of her eyes.

"I was . . . until I realized that at least now you won't die anytime soon." Sula smiled at his words as their lips met again, Quotho's fingers running through her locks, pulling her closer. They broke apart and Sula shook her head.

"We are not alone, Quotho . . . you must behave . . ." Quotho grinned as he buried his face within her hair, his lips pressing to the sensitive skin behind her ear.

"Send them away, my fire . . . this stallion wants to mount his world . . ." Sula grinned and laughed as Quotho drew away, his hand instinctively moving to settle on her stomach, and she snuggled Braska closer to her before she pressed her lips to his forehead. She called to Etaine, who stood and bowed to her mistress before Sula spoke,

"Take Braska to see his pony amidst the other horses in our herd . . . allow him a quick ride if he wishes . . ." She told her, and Etaine's eyes twinkled playfully as she gestured to the stew boiling behind her.

"But my lady, the stew will be ready soon!" Quotho stifled back a grin as Sula smiled.

"Don't worry Etaine . . . we won't be long."


	16. Chapter 15

***Dum, dum, dum* Plot twist! :)**

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><p><em>Jon Snow's POV . . .<em>

It was cold . . . too cold, and the warm bricks underneath their mattress had long since gone as cold as the room around them, the roaring fire the servants had built, was now a mere pile of smoldering ash in the grate. He lay there awake in bed, his eyes observing the heavy emerald draperies of the canopied bed above him, listening to the moaning and groaning of the blizzard moving outside their windows. He felt Gabrielle's comforting presence sleeping beside him, her chest slowly rising and falling. She had fallen asleep as Jon stayed up reading, Nathaniel and Lark falling asleep between them as well, all three of them snuggled warmly underneath the covers, Gabrielle's arms lying protectively across their tiny chests.

It was the second time that week that Gabrielle had fallen asleep with their children in the bed with them, and quite frankly, it kind of irked Jon. He loved his children dearly, but what was the point of having a whole another set of apartments for the children with their own retinue, their own governess and nanny, if they didn't use them?

That, and quite frankly, Jon felt like making love, something that they quite obviously could not do with nannies and governesses moving in and out of the rooms every once in a while so that they could check on their young wards.

But like Gabrielle tried to make it any easier.

Jon sighed and threw aside the covers to the bed, where he slipped on a robe and made his way to the nearby window. After wiping away the fog from the window, he gazed down at the snowy world beyond the window, at the blizzard that raged beyond, the fat snowflakes that whirled through the air and the wind that seemed so determined to blow the very walls of the castle away.

Jon sighed and leaned up against the windowpane, his eyes seeing past the window but his mind somewhere else. He was thinking of his mother, again, the mother he never knew and the mother that Ned flat-out refused to tell him about.

_"Is that your mommy's mouth, Bastard? What was she, some whore? Tell us her name. Maybe I've had her a time or two!"_

Jon's hands clenched into fists at his sides, although he kept his anger in check. The man had insulted him gravely that afternoon, something that had got him a one-way ticket to missing a tooth and sporting a black eye. Jon would have done worse, had Robb and Ser Jory managed to pull him off of the poor man. Well . . . Jon didn't exactly think he was poor.

Even though Ned refused to speak of her, Jon had heard the rumors floating about the castle. He heard that she was a serving wench, a whore that Ned met while on campaign, even that she was one of Lady Catelyn Stark's handmaidens that Ned met while Catelyn was pregnant with Robb. He didn't know a lot of things about her, but what he did know was that his father had loved her very much, that he looked like her and that her name had been Whylla.

He dreamed of her at times. When he fast asleep, warm and safe in his bed, with Gabrielle sleeping soundly beside him, her head on his chest, her arm wrapped around his stomach, he dreamed of the mother he never knew. He envisioned her the way he thought she should look like. He envisioned her with thick black hair, her eyes kind and her bearing noble. He never knew her, but Jon loved his mother . . . in his own way, he loved her.

There was the quiet sound of rustling bed sheets, and he glanced behind him to see Gabrielle gazing at him, her expression sympathetic. "Can't sleep?" Jon nodded as he went back to gazing out the window, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

"Yeah . . . I keep thinking of her."

Gabrielle moved to prop herself up on her elbow, gazing at him curiously. "You can't keep thinking of whom?"

"I keep thinking of my mother." Gabrielle nodded at his reply and threw aside the covers. She stood, naked, and her flesh immediately became covered with gooseflesh. She shivered uncontrollably in the cold and wrapped her arms around herself, her teeth shattering as she looked around for her robe. Jon smiled weakly and gestured her over to him. "Come here before you catch your death . . ." He held open his robe and Gabrielle grinned and bit her bottom lip as she obeyed him. It was the first remotely loving thing she had shown him in a long time, and he enfolded her within his robe and hugged her close when she closed the distance between them.

Their naked bodies warmed quickly in each other's arms underneath the furred robe, and Gabrielle's arms wrapped around his waist, his arms around hers as the both of them gazed out the window. After a moment, she nuzzled her face into his neck, breathing in the scent she had missed so much; that musky male scent that was so arousing and wonderful. She felt his arms tighten around her, bringing her closer still to him and she pressed her lips to the skin of his collarbone, her hands skimming down his sides, and Jon chuckled in amusement. She felt the gentle rumble of his chest against her breasts as he moved to tilt her head back so that he could gaze down into her eyes.

"Here I am, wallowing in my own thoughts, and you're here getting aroused! And pray tell, how do you propose we finish this, love? The children clam the bed and it is too cold for anywhere else." Gabrielle shook her head as she pushed him, making him turn around so that she was pressed against the wall.

"There's always more than one way to skin a cat, Jon." She reminded him, and Jon couldn't help but grin.

"Yes, that is true, but for some reason, I think this cat's skin is going to be a little bit harder to skin . . .!" He gestured to the robe the both of them were wrapped up in and Gabrielle smiled conspiratorially.

"There are other ways to warm up, Jon . . . this being one of them." She told him huskily as she swept the robe off of them. It fell to their feet and both of them shivered violently as Jon leaned down slightly, grasped the back of her thighs in his hands and helped her leap up into his arms. Pressed against the wall out of sight and laughing and conversing quietly together like the two long-time childhood friends they were, the space around them _did _seem to grow warmer with every breathless kiss, every heated touch, and when Gabrielle grasped him and guided him into her, both of them let out a low moan, both careful not to wake the children. As Jon thrusted, made love to her, her nails racking gashes down his back, her moans low in his ear, the whole room seemed hotter, not just the tiny space that they occupied. Their mouths clashed, tongues entwining, and he swallowed her loud moan when she came, her body clenching around him as he came a short time later.

They stood there for a moment, kissing slowly, passionately, he still inside of her and it was then, at that moment, with the blizzard raging outside, with the children sleeping nearby and with Jon's tongue pressed deliciously against hers, that Gabrielle knew she was finally willing to forgive him again and resume their great love affair.

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><p><em>Ghost's POV . . .<em>

The snow never bothered Ghost, not like it bothered his brother's and sister's. Lady and Grey Wind especially did not like the cold, preferring to lay curled up at the foot of their master and mistress's bed than lope around outside after hours in a blizzard. Shaggy Dog and Summer didn't mind it, but it was Nymeria that loved it. Whereas his other siblings shunned him, looked at him warily, Nymeria was the only one who would approach him, lick him in greeting and even run around the castle and grounds with him, especially in a blizzard. This time, however, Nymeria was not with him, choosing this night of all nights to be sleeping in bed with her mistress. It didn't matter though, more interesting things for him.

And it wasn't like he was blind; he could still see. He _was _the one who found the break in the castle wall leading to the outside, after all, and he used it often, especially when an interesting smell hit him and he _had _to investigate.

Ghost, the albino dire wolf of Jon Snow, was the one who saw the hunched over figure first, trudging as quickly through the snow and gale force winds as fast as he could, the figure made his silent path to the gate of the castle, Ghost silently watching a few feet away. The figure smelled familiar, almost like his master, but then again, he didn't. Ghost whimpered and flattened his ears back against his head as he turned and loped back to the castle. He would run to his master and mistress's rooms, where the young master and mistress was staying too. He _must_ find out who the strange figure was!

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><p><em>Ned Stark's POV . . .<em>

Ned had been awake in his study, pouring over a few new texts recovered for the library, when one of the guards came to him saying that there was someone at the gate wanting inside. After grabbing Ice propped up against the nearby wall, he fallowed the guard to the front hall, where the doors were already creaking open, the hunched over figure walking inside, their fur traveling coat already soaked through from the blizzard. He was trembling madly and Ned could hear his teeth chattering, even when he first entered the room.

Ned quickly made his way over to the person, quickly assessing that the person was unarmed, but even Ned knew that assassins carried concealed weapons to be draw at a moment's notice for the more deadly kill. None-the-less, he stopped a few feet away from the person, his hand on Ice's hilt, ready to draw it and attack at a moment's notice.

"This is a strange time to be seeking shelter, friend." Ned spoke and the person nodded in agreement and tried to say something, but his teeth were chattering too badly for the words to be literate. Ned waited patiently for the person to warm and when he did, Ned opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by the man.

"How's my boy, Ned?"

Ned froze, his eyes growing wide. It wasn't a man, it was a woman and that voice sounded very, _very _familiar. Ned shook his head. "I'm sorry, but do I know you?" The woman chuckled from underneath her hood and rose to her full height. She flipped down the hood, revealing a thick mass of blue-black curls streaked with grey and the most luminous blue-gray eyes one would ever have seen on a person. Ned was frozen to the spot, even when he finally found his voice; he didn't know what to say. The woman smiled as she closed the distance between Ned, where she lovingly caressed his cheek.

"You should know me, Ned . . . I did bare you your bastard son, after all."

Ned's eyes grew impossibly wide with disbelief. "W-Whylla!"


	17. Chapter 16

**Okay, I assume that you all have come to the conclusion that this story isn't exactly fallowing the plot-line of the book and/or the show. That's how I kinda of wanted it, but to clear up some things, it kinda takes place BEFORE the events of the book and show, but that would make Jon a little bit younger than I need him to be, so lets just pretend he's much older than he is in the book, shall we? :). Another thing, I know that Daenerys and Khal Drogo are not together at this period, but again, lets pretend, shall we ;)**

**PS - sorry for the shortness of the POV's, but i had some trouble figuring out who I wanted for which POV (I changed the last one multiple times from Whylla and Ned) and I do hope you all like them :)**

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><p><em>Ned Stark's POV . . .<em>

The first thing he had done was kiss her.

He had buried his hands in those rich black locks, the locks that he had long since dreamed about, the locks that he dreamed running through his fingers like water, the locks that he dreamed falling over his skin like a silken curtain . . . the locks that their son had inherited and every one of his children after him. His lips had pressed passionately against hers and when she returned the kiss, her chest shaking with silent laughter, he wanted to laugh too.

The second thing he did was weep.

He fell to his knees before her, wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face in the softness of her emerald green skirts. With her elegantly long fingers running through his still thick dark brown hair, he told her how much he had missed her, how much he still loved her. He told her how Jon had grown up inquiring about her, how much of a troubled youth he had been with no mother to guide him.

But most of all, he told her he loved her and that this time, he would never let her go.

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><p><em>Jon Snow's POV . . .<em>

All his life, Jon had inquired about his mother and he had often dreamed about her. Now, as he and Gabrielle gazed across the grand hall at the woman who had long eluded him, Jon, who had rehearsed this moment since he could first comprehend what a 'bastard' was, did not have any words to say. He was finally meeting the woman who had given him up, the woman he had dreamed about and the woman he had wanted so desperately to know when he was a young boy. Now that, that was very much in his reach, Jon realized that he had never been quite so scared in his life.

It had been Gabrielle who had gently nudged him forwards and when he turned his head and smiled uneasily at her, it had been her who smiled reassuringly at him and told him not to worry. Those words coming from the woman who held his son in her arms, whose maid carried their daughter behind them, the two most perfect, beautiful children in Westeros, meant the very world to him. It made him want to weep on how Gabrielle was there for him, how she would not think of leaving him to face this alone.

It made him love her even more.

Jon turned his eyes back onto Ned and his mother standing across the hall, where he found both of them gazing almost expectantly at them. Ned gestured him over to them and he saw a small, loving, almost apologetic smile flit across his mother's features as she observed the son she gave up . . . the son that she would gladly take back if only he would have her.

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><p><em>Whylla's POV . . .<em>

Whylla could hardly believe her eyes at the man who strode confidently across the hall towards them, his sword at his hip and his wife and children behind him, was her son. She had been afraid . . . so very afraid that Jon would see her, turn around on his heels and then march off, shunning her before he had even formally met her. But Ned had lovingly squeezed her hand and assured her in a quiet voice that Jon would do no such thing. His tone had been sure, certain . . . hopeful. And he had been right.

The man that strode across the room toward her, was indeed her child, but was also the spitting image of a Stark. Dark-haired, pale-skinned and eyes as black and as fathomless as the very winters that the Starks had grown used to, Whylla could understand why Catelyn shunned him so. Whilst all her children except Arya were the spitting image of the Tully's with their auburn hair, Jon was not . . . Jon was a lot of things that Catelyn's children were not, something that the proud Catelyn Tully would not want to admit.

And the woman behind him . . . the one with almost obvious Dothraki blood, must have been his wife and the children also trailing alongside behind him in the arms of their mother and midwife, must have been _his _children. Whylla felt tears come to her eyes as she gazed at them. She had been so desperately afraid that Jon would not have a happy life without her, something that she knew was ultimately selfish, but something that she could not banish from her heart, especially when Ned had been married to someone like Catelyn Tully, who hated the very thought of Jon.

She felt Ned's hand give hers another loving, assuring squeeze as Jon finally cleared the distance between them. Easily standing a few inches taller than his mother, Jon gazed down at her with a curious look on his face, one that Whylla was only happy to return.

"Jon, this is Whylla . . . this is your mother . . ." Ned told him and Jon nodded.

"I know . . . I dreamed of you." He spoke quietly, and Whylla smiled a small smile.

"Am I what you expected?" She asked, and Jon closed his eyes, allowing a tear to leak out from underneath one closed eyelid, where he shook his head.

"I dreamed of you as being taller . . . less lines in your face . . . but I can wholly accept this you, too." Whylla felt tears in her eyes as she hugged her son to her tightly, finally able to marvel how his body felt in her arms. He had been ripped from her arms all too soon after his birth, still bloody and squalling from being unmercifully born into this world, and she had only got a chance to see his face once before he was taken away, never to be seen from again, and of course, his face had changed.

He looked like a younger Ned.

They stood like that for a long while, just savoring being in each other arms before they both felt a looming, infuriated presence behind them. Ned had also visibly stiffened beside them and when they broke apart, they saw the Devil herself standing behind them, a shocked, yet angry look on her face.

Catelyn . . .

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><p><em>Jon Snow's POV . . .<em>

Jon had never seen two women look at each other with so much hatred than Whylla and Catelyn Stark did.

With a look that could melt marble and with eyes as venomous as poisoned daggers, Catelyn and Whylla both tried to stare the other down, see who the first to yield her station was. When neither did, Catelyn was the first to talk,

"You dare show your face here again!" Whylla smiled tightly.

"That's me . . . the sin that the pious, chivalric husband chose to act upon . . . or . . . _in_, if you want to get technical and slightly vulgar."

"Even now, you still have that snide tongue of yours, I see," Catelyn returned coldly, sharply. "What are you doing here?"

"Does it matter? She's here to see me -"

"Shut your mouth, whoreson!" Catelyn snapped at Jon, successfully interrupting him mid-sentence, and it was then, that a stormy look appeared in Whylla's eyes and she moved silently in front of Jon, almost as if she would protect her son from the barbed tongue of Catelyn Stark.

"I would vastly appreciate it, Catelyn, if you picked on someone your own size for once, instead of hitting at someone who does not deserve his lot in life." Whylla spoke quietly, although her words were steeped in venom. "That or you must be royally stupid to want to snap at a son when his mother is standing right there beside him." Catelyn blanched for a moment, her Tully resolve weakened for a moment, and Whylla pressed her attack. "For you see, I've heard some pretty unsavory things you have been telling my son all these years. Calling him, 'whoreson' for one and telling him that his mother had been a whore and that he should 'die' and all manner of things like that," Whylla smiled smugly. "Of course, I didn't exactly feel like a whore when your husband was making love to me a room above yours."

"You dare -!"

"I dare nothing; I'm just brave enough to talk back to you, Catelyn, something that you sorely need right now, it seems. Now, as for what I'm doing here . . . I wanted to see my son and meet my grandchildren. It's about time they have a grandmother that actually cares for them." Catelyn pursed her lips and reluctantly nodded. Jon stood there, stunned for a moment, an emotion that Ned mirrored. Never, in all his years, had Jon and Ned ever seen Catelyn stand there and bow down to the will of another. Jon wouldn't lie . . . it amused him greatly.

Whylla turned her head and smiled at Jon as she wrapped an arm around her son's shoulders. "As for how long I'll stay . . . this time, I think I'll stay until Ned wants me to go. Do you understand, Catelyn; when _he _wants me to go . . . not you, not Jory, no one but Ned. I think the whore has the right to reside where her bastard son does, don't you think, Ned?"

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><p><em>Ned Stark's POV . . .<em>

Ned, who had been listening to his wife and ex-mistress fight with as much amusement and incredulity as his son had, took a few moments to realize that Whylla's last statement was in actuality a question aimed towards him. He stood there for a moment, stunned, not knowing what to say that could possibly make his wife and son happy.

"I . . . well . . ." He gave up and looked at Whylla pleadingly. "Whylla, I . . . we don't have rooms ready for you, much less a church mouse!" Whylla smiled at him kindly.

"It is perfectly fine, Ned, I can wait for rooms to be made ready for me. I have slept in worse places than on the floor, I assure you!" With a huff and knowing that she would not win this fight that night, Catelyn Stark twirled around and upon barking an order at her ladies, returned to her rooms. Jon smiled another small smile at his mother, but she smiled back and kissed him gently on his temple.

"We will talk later; I promise . . . we have so much to catch up on, my son. But now, you need sleep, I can see it in your eyes, and in those of your lovely family. Return to bed, please, I beg you." Jon smiled as his mother and although his eyes were objecting to the request, his body was not. His legs turned him around and stepped tiredly up to bed, his arm around Gabrielle and Maharet trailing a little ways behind them. Ned and Whylla watched them go for a moment before Ned glanced at Whylla.

"Will you allow me to give you a tour of the castle while you wait for your rooms to be readied, Whylla? The castle has changed much since you have been here, and I think you'll be pleasantly surprised. That is . . . if you will give me that honor."

Whylla turned to face him and smiled as she moved closer to him, her hands moving to frame his face as she searched his eyes. She found, sadness, loss and exhaustion in those brown depths. This man, although not old, had definitely grown up over the years. She just hoped he was still the man she remembered him being, and she pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth. He trembled in her arms, and she felt a slight, vain rush of smugness that he was still enthralled by her, even after all these years.

"Is it a tour of the castle Ned . . . or a tour of your bedchambers?" She asked him and Ned chuckled.

"I am a changed man, Whylla. No longer do I frolic in beds that are not my wife's. Believe it or not, I try to be honorable now." Whylla grinned and chuckled.

"I only jest, Ned. I know you have changed, I have too. I would love for a tour of the castle. It has been a long time since I have walked these hallowed halls and I am unfamiliar with them." Ned smiled as he offered, possibly, the most beautiful woman in the world, his arm.

"Well then, we'll have to acquaint you with them. I will not have Jon's mother getting lost within the first night of returning to Winterfell." He told her, and Whylla smiled a small smile.

"I won't . . . not with you beside me."

For the first time in a long time, Ned felt his ice-encased heart begin to thaw.


	18. Chapter 17

**Lemon time!**

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><p><em>Daenerys Targaryen and Sula's POV . . .<em>

Daenerys had never before seen a woman wolf down that stallion heart faster than Sula did.

The darkly beautiful woman kneeled on the dais with the _dosh khaleen _chanting and dancing around her, her black hair tied back in cornrows against her head only to fall in long, luxurious locks down to her ass. Her eyes were dark, her pupils large as she held the last remaining bites of stallion heart in her hand, gazing at it with a mixed look of revulsion and determination. She was determined to bare her husband another son, a son that he could be proud of, like Braska, but it was just so . . . damn . . . _disgusting_! Her own mother had to go through it five times, and how, Sula and Daenerys would never know.

Sula bared her bloody teeth in revulsion before she forced the last bit into her mouth, squeezing her eyes shut and clutching at her protruding stomach as she chewed the tough meat and then swallowed it heavily. She knew that with every child Quotho got her with, she would have to do it again and again, but Sula didn't think she could after this one. She forced herself not to vomit as the _dosh khaleen _read the smoke to her. They told her it would be another son, a son that would make his father proud, and a son that would become a Bloodrider like his father and brother and mother before him. She gritted her teeth and forced down bile, even when she felt the strong, comforting arms of her husband wrap around her waist and heft her up in his arms over him, her hands moving to brace herself on his strong shoulders. She opened her eyes to a madly cheering crowd and a beaming Quotho beneath her, and he brought her down to him and kissed her, despite the congealing horse blood smeared around her mouth and gripped her close to him, crushing her body to his.

"You done it, my Fire . . . you are going to give us a son!" Sula grinned.

"And what if it is a daughter?" Quotho grinned.

"With you as her mother . . . I wouldn't be angry." Sula smiled a teary smile as she wrapped her arms around her husband's neck and kissed him again. He hefted her up in his arms again and it was like that, that they made their way down to the sacred pool, whose waters were said to have been the very waters from which the Sky Father riding the first stallion, galloped from. It was said that the pool had no bottom, but Quotho felt mud squishing beneath his booted feet as they moved into the cool water, cleansing them both and the child slumbering inside of Sula underneath her heart.

He let Sula down and gently undid her braids before ran his fingers through the thick locks, smoothing them out before she scooped some water up in her hands and splashed it over her head, closing her eyes as the water ran down her face in rivulets.

Daenerys watched, with unfeigned curiosity towards her newfound friend as they exited the pool, happiness and joy etched onto every line in their face, every window of their eyes. The people cheered as Quotho pulled her into his arms and slowly divested her of her clothing, baring her olive skin and voluptuous body for all to see. They would make love then, on the bank of the pool, just as it was said that was where the Sky Father mated with the Earth Mother, who bore him the first ever Khal, the first Stallion Who Mounted the World. It was here, that it was said that the spirit of the Earth Mother was most alive within the womb of every woman.

She felt an unspeakable happiness spread in her heart when she saw her friend's happiness. She couldn't help but grin and when the ritual finally ended, the guttural singing of the _dosh khaleen_ coming to an end and when Quotho and Sula stood and straightened themselves, Daenerys and Sula's eyes met and they inclined their heads to each other, knowing that with both their rituals completed, they were finally sisters and Sula was finally blood-of-her-blood.

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><p><em>Gabrielle Snow's POV . . .<em>

_ She didn't know where she was. When she opened her eyes, she found herself standing in the middle of a vast plain that stretched as far as her eyes could see; the tall green and tan grass tickled her bare feet and tanned legs the longer she stood there and she resisted the urge to bend down and scratch at them in favor of gazing around herself at her surroundings. _

_The sky was clear and a beautiful baby blue, the sun a bright ball of fire that made everything in the meadow shine with a seemingly ethereal glow. She looked behind her and saw her dappled gray mare cropping at the tall grass, a beautiful chestnut charger standing beside her, doing the same. She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. She thought she had been alone. She had come to be alone, to escape from her family duties in the _Khalasar_. She didn't _think _anyone had been with her._

_She looked down, observing her hands. They were no longer the smooth, well-lotioned beings that they had been in Winterfell. Now, they were hard and well-callused from gripping the reins of her mare and thin leather gauntlets offered scant protection to the calluses. Her feet were bare, dirty from walking through the fields of the Dothraki Sea, and she was clad in a thin sand-silk skirt, her halter-top made of well-oiled leather. Her hair was in a long black braid falling down her back; tinkling silver bells weaved occasionally in the thick rope. Around her neck hung a thin, well-made gold chain that fell coolly down between her bronze breasts and when she gently pressed her fingertips to her suddenly slightly heavier nose, she felt a tiny gold stud. _

_She was in awe. She had never felt more beautiful, especially when she felt the golden whip strapped to her hip and a strange word appeared in her mind when she wondered at what her profession was: _Bloodrider.

_Before she could wander her mind even more into where she was, she felt smooth hands slid across her bare stomach to wrap around her waist. She breathed in deeply the smell of horses combined with the muskiness of men and grinned when she felt her mate and her sun and star's chin on her shoulder. His arms brought her closer to him, her back pressing into his front, and she grinned and turned her head to gaze at her mate, words of love bubbling forth on her lips, expecting to see Jon, but gasped in shock at who she saw._

_Like a tawny, strong lion protecting his lioness, Jaime Lannister smiled gently down at her, his hand moving to caress her cheek. His golden hair shined brightly in the sun, serving only to heighten his ethereal beauty and his bronze bare chest shone in the sun too. He was clad in lightweight riding silks; his sandaled feet still making him tower over her. A glittering golden _arakh _was strapped to his waist and the strange word, _Bloodrider_ appeared in her head again as she gazed up at him. They were both Bloodriders, in service to their _Khal_, they were husband and wife, he was her sun and stars and she was the sun of his life._

_He leaned in and kissed her, his tongue silently requesting entrance to her mouth and although her mind screamed of the wrongness of the situation, even though she silently screamed that he was not Jon, that he was Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer, the Queen Cersei's pet and lap dog, Gabrielle (if that was still her name, and when a feeling of assurance came along with that name being echoed in her mind, she realized that it still was) could not help the feeling of longing and primal need that pooled deep in her belly at the feel of his tongue exploring her mouth, his hands smoothing over her stomach, her tightly wrapped breasts, at the taste of him in her mouth, the smoky tang of roasted horseflesh and the sweetness of the Summer Wine that the _Khaleesi _would sometimes serve them. _

_Her chest heaved; her fingers ran through his golden blonde locks as they kissed deeply, passionately, his hands slowly undoing her sand-silk skirt, allowing it to fall to the ground before he did the same to her leather halter-top. When his hand delved into the juncture between her thighs, caressing that secret place of hers, Gabrielle let out a gasp and she felt him grin against her mouth._

_'You are the sun of my life . . . my Dothraki Princess . . . and you are _mine_!' His whispered to her and although her mind continued to scream at how wrong all of this was and even though her heart pounded with the terror and the ecstasy of it when he slowly lowered her to her hands and knees in front of him, where he pushed into her with a slight moan of primal pleasure that mirrored her own, she could not deny the pleasure of it when he started to move within her, setting her whole insides on fire. _

_She bit her bottom lip and rose up on her knees in front of him, her hand immediately moving behind her to bury in his thick mane of golden locks. One of his arms moved to wrap around her waist, keeping her steady as he buried his hand in-between her thighs again, keeping in tune with his thrusting hips as she pulled him down for a suckling kiss that had both of them breathing harder at the passion roiling between them. She broke apart to speak, only for a whimper to escape past her lips when his free hand skipped to her breast, the other still working diligently between her legs. Jaime was like a bucking stallion behind her, his lovemaking powerful and a little languid, like him, like the Lion that the _Khalasars _compared him to. Gabrielle could hardly find the breath to speak what she wanted to say. _

_Her hand tightened into a fist in his hair, her nails scraping against his scalp as she pulled him into another kiss, this one furious and harsh, their tongues coupling with a furiousness that made Jaime's hips thrust faster, and when she broke apart and found the breath to finally speak, her lips were red and swollen from the kiss. She gazed into his blue eyes, mirroring his heavy-lidded, lust-filled gaze, and bit her bottom lip again as her hand left his hair and trailed down his side to grip his thigh, _

_'Jaime . . . my sun and stars . . . my love . . . I _am_ yours . . . _all_ yours!'_

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><p><em>Jaime Lannister's POV . . .<em>

Jaime shot up in bed, breathing hard, his eyes wide with shock and sweat slicking his skin. His heart pounded in his breast, keeping in tune with the pounding headache that threatened to split his skull in two. He gazed around him, letting out a relieved sigh that was slightly tinged with disappointment when he saw he was laying in his own bed in his own quarters in the castle of Winterfell, and not on his knees in some field in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the Dothraki Sea, making love to Gabrielle as she made the most delightful sounds and pressed the most passionately deep kisses that he ever had.

He swallowed heavily and ran a hand through his hair as he calmed down, his heart slowing and his breathing slowing as well. He became intensely aware of a sticky feeling at his hips and stomach and rolled his eyes at the realization that this mind thought the dream was a little bit more real than it actually had any right to be.

He threw aside the covers and moved over to the pitcher of cold water sitting on a nearby end table. He cleaned himself off before he poured himself a mug of water and gulped it down in two hearty gulps. He then took the rest of the pitcher and poured the water over his head, shivering violently as the iciness hit his bare skin. He then leaned upon the table, trying to figure out what the Hell had just happened.


	19. Chapter 18

**Okay, I'm rather happy with how I portrayed Ned and Whylla with this chapter and if you do have a problem with Ned establishing a romantic relationship with a woman other than Catelyn, then too bad, I'm doing it anyway :)**

**By the way, this is the chapter that Jaime and Gabrielle's relationship finally takes off, and I know it was coming eventually, or else I would not have put in the summary in chapter one, but I must confess that I'm kinda feeling an amnosity for Jaime because of this LOL**

**- Nagiana**

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><p><em>Ned Stark's POV . . . <em>

"You're right, Ned, many things have changed." Whylla voiced in awe as she gazed around her at the ever expanding Winterfell Castle, at the new tapestries and rugs that lay on the floor and hung from the walls, from the statues of suit of armor that lined the halls and the paintings that hung from the walls as well as wrought-iron brackets of softly lighted candles.

Ned grinned as they continued their slow path down the winding corridors to the apartments she had once occupied and which had been newly aired out and cleaned and were ready for her. His hand clutched at hers with was looped through his arm. "A lot of things have changed in the long spiritless years you've been gone, Whylla." He told her quietly, and Whylla grinned back as she patted his hand and laid her head on his shoulder as they walked.

"If things hadn't, I would have been worried." She returned with a light laugh, and Ned glanced at her.

"I have missed you, you know . . . terribly, achingly so." He told her, and she gave him a curious look.

"I thought you loved Catelyn . . . surely she would have replaced me in your heart by now!" Ned shook his head.

"I do love, Catelyn, don't get me wrong. She has given me five strong, healthy children and she has been the light of my existence for all the years you've been gone, but you . . . Whylla, you have had _my _heart for all these long years." He told her, and Whylla smiled a small, comfortingly smile.

"If I had known, I would not have left so easily." She told him and Ned gazed at her.

"Why did you leave?"

Whylla looked down at the floor as they walked. "I didn't want to leave, Ned. Catelyn made me. She had me shipped out of Winterfell on a litter and with a small contingent of guards bound for the ports leading out of Westeros about a day and a half after Jon was born," She told him. "I didn't fight back, I was too weak from the birth, I had lost a lot of blood, I almost died, Ned. But I didn't. When I reached the ports of Starfall, I was taken in by an old master and his apprentices bound for Pentos. I was nursed back to health and I joined him as a nurse. We traveled to Pentos, and from there, we saw the world, from the cities dotting Slavers Bay to Quarth and Tyria. I saw the world, Ned, I experienced things I would never take back for the world, but I . . . I could not help but miss you and Jon . . . the son and man I loved that I left behind, even though I was forced to."

"Why did you come back?"

Whylla turned her eyes back onto him, where she smiled a weak smile. "I thought it was my time to come back." She told him quietly, and the two stopped walking and turned to face each other when they finally reached her quarters. She smiled a small smile but Ned turned his eyes back onto the ground. He opened the door and allowed her to walk in first before he closed the door behind them and stood in its way, watching her as she observed the room, looks of approval flitting over her features.

"I've . . . I've kept your rooms the way they were when you left. The furniture is still in the same place, the rugs, the tapestries, the paintings, the books, everything, I allowed them to take nothing, something that Catelyn spit hellfire and brimstone at, you'd be happy to know. I wanted . . . I mean, in the end, we hope you find it to your liking." He told her, and Whylla smiled a small smile as she turned around to gaze at him. She observed him closely and when he felt her eyes on him, he jumped at the feeling, his eyes immediately turning up to hers. She was gazing at him kindly, her eyes loving.

"And what do _you _want, Ned?" She asked him quietly, and he swallowed heavily. "I have yet to hear what you want."

Before he could keep the words that bubbled up to his lips from being born, they were spoken and hanging between them like a heavy cloud.

"I want . . . I want you."

The silence that ensued was a little heavy, but not as awkward as he thought they would be. Whylla continued to observe him for a moment, her face expressionless before she bit her bottom lip and moved slowly toward him, undoing the laces to her dress as she moved. The dress fell to pool around her feet when she was a mere few feet from him, baring her nakedness to him, her hips sashaying with a lithe fluidity that reminded Ned of a jungle cat.

She closed the distance between them and his eyes swept over her nudity, drinking in the still taut, bronze skin and the long, waist length curly black hair that he had dreamed about for so long. Her dusky nipples, the patch of curling hair at the apex of her thighs . . . Ned let out a defeated sigh as Whylla put her hands on his neck and kissed him. He returned the kiss, reveling in the sweetness of it, the way her lips and tongue molded perfectly to his. He could feel her small, yet still ample breasts pressing against his clothed chest and found himself reminiscing on how wonderful they had felt pressed against him when he was bare chested.

Whylla pulled away from him gently and with her hands still on his neck, she spoke, her voice in a breathless whisper,

"If you want me, Ned . . . come and get me."

There was little to no hesitation. After shrugging off his heavy cloak, he pulled her into his arms, pulling her upwards so that he would not have to bend down to kiss her, and as their lips crashed together furiously, she jumped up and wrapped her legs around his waist. He grinned and murmured something, something that made her giggle and he carried her into the bedchamber, both of them sighing in relief when they saw the familiar four-poster canopy bed with the emerald green hangings that had once been their favorite place in the world.

And suddenly, Ned had never felt his life look so good than when he was in Whylla's arms, wrapped around her, inside her, feeling her wrapped around him, the love in her eyes and the whispered words of sweet nothings and the moans that echoed in his ears as they climbed that peak together, eventually shooting to the stars and the moon, both of them never wanting to go back down.

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><p><em>Gabrielle Snow's POV . . .<em>

"I must confess, my Lady, I was shocked when I received your request to join you this afternoon." Jaime Lannister told Gabrielle as they walked beside each other through the forest path, the reins of their horses in their hands as they clomped behind their master's. Gabrielle smiled.

"Well I must confess something as well, Ser Lannister . . ." She told him and he smiled and inclined his head.

"Of course, my Lady, you may tell me anything." He told her, and Gabrielle smiled a little bit bigger, although her mind still protested furiously at what she had persuaded herself to do after she awoke from the dream. She was going to confront Jaime and demand some answers.

Like if he drugged her for one. There was absolutely no reason she would dream about him anywise.

"I dreamed about you last night . . ." She told him and she could see Jaime immediately tense out of the corner of her eye, although she ignored him. Her mind flooded with pictures of the strange dream and the amazing sex contained within. He looked away as they continued walking back towards the stables, which they had to see budding on the horizon.

"I am honored, my Lady . . . although pray tell, why?" Gabrielle shook her head.

"It is . . . I call my modesties into question whenever I think of it, Ser Lannister . . ." She told him, blush tingeing her cheeks. Jaime grinned.

"Did I take your modesty in this dream, my Lady Snow? Did I make you come, screaming my name and not that bastard husband of yours?" He asked her, and her lips pursed.

"You tread too far, Ser Lannister." She told him shortly, although she did not explode in anger like she would have. That reaction in itself told him all the truth he needed to know. He grinned.

"So I did . . . and you _did_!" He shrugged nonchalantly, although his heart pounded frantically in his chest. It was just coincidence that both of them had dreamed about the other the previous night. It had to be. "I told you I would get you eventually . . . although I must confess that it was not in reality." Gabrielle glanced at him.

"I love my husband . . ." She told him, but it seemed more like an excuse, and Jaime immediately caught it. He inched closer to her, making it out to be like his horse nudged him over, and she didn't bother to correct him or move away.

"You know, my Lady, that in some cultures in Pentos and the surrounding aisles, it is expected for the wife to take lovers outside of the marriage bed. Actually, the more children she has by different fathers only confirms her social station," He told her and she glanced up at him again almost in awe as he continued, "Women are held in the highest regards, revered almost as living Goddesses in human form, and they are treated as such. They walk around in gowns so sheer that they are almost naked, bedecked with jewels that would make Queen Cersei jealous, and the men they take to their bed feel honored to be chosen. They go to bed passionately and in the morning, they part with pleasantries, almost as if they had just had a simple spot of tea. If they become with child, the male is adopted into her household as one of her husbands. I've seen women with as many as ten or fifteen husbands with each of their children a different father."

Gabrielle turned her eyes onto Jaime, her eyes boring into his beautiful blue ones. "And what does this have to do with you, Ser Lannister?" She asked him, and he smiled a small smile as they stopped walking, their horses stopping as well as Jaime turned to her.

"I would be honored, my Lady Snow, if I was taken to your bed. Lord Snow need not even know. I can keep a secret and I can silence those who wish ill will upon you. You can keep your marriage, your children and your life. A perk will be that you would have me on the side . . . our lovemaking would mirror the dream we both had last night, and I promise, you would never walk away from me unfulfilled." He suggested to her.

"You are joking with me, are you not?" She asked him in amusement, but that amusement fizzled away when she saw him shake his head gravely.

"I wish I was, Gabrielle, but I'm not. I had a taste last night of the sweetest fruit I had ever known and now, I cannot think, cannot breath, cannot go a moment without thinking of you in my arms . . . of me being inside of you . . ." He trailed off as he ran a finger down her breast, his eyes moving languidly up from the firm mounds to her eyes. She did not stop him and he continued by trailed his hand up her neck to cup her cheek. "I was only hunting you for sport when I said that I would eventually have you in my bed, Gabrielle . . . now . . . now it's not a hunt anymore . . . it's an aching need that I want so desperately to fill."

"What if a child . . ." She began, but Jaime closed his eyes and shook his head, successfully ending the sentence coming from her lips.

"I wouldn't think of it. I'll leave Jon to get you with child whenever the urge arises in him. I will be here purely for pleasure, I swear upon the Gods, both old and new." He assured her and she narrowed her eyes at him.

"How do you possibly . . ." He interrupted her again by shaking his head.

"I have my ways, Gabrielle. I promise that if you do choose to take me up on my offer, that the entire time we share a bed, you will not once become with my child." He assured her and Gabrielle looked away.

"I love my husband . . ." She voiced again, and Jaime nodded as he stepped closer and put a hand to her cheek.

"And you can continue loving him, Gabrielle! I ask for no emotions, just pure, primal sex. We won't even call it lovemaking if that disturbs you. Leave the sweet lovemaking to your precious bastard husband and all we'll do is 'fucking'." Gabrielle turned her eyes back onto him.

"And what if emotions do grow?" She asked him, and Jaime Lannister smiled a small, weak smile.

"Then I'm afraid we'll both be in trouble, won't we?"


	20. Chapter 19

**Okay, just to clear up confusion, I know its technically supposed to be 'moon' of my life and not 'sun' of my life, but the thing is, 'moon of my life' was a nickname that Drogo gave Daenerys because of her hair color, it was not specific to every couple, so I threw in sun of my life to avoid any confusion :)**

**Oh, and by the way, I wanna give a shout out to Dark Alana . . . thanks girl for your awesome reviews, they are very much appreciated, and keep them up!**

**- Nagiana**

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><p><em>Gabrielle Snow's POV . . .<em>

Even now, he still made her blush.

It was impossible to describe and explain her relationship with Jaime to anyone (and in truth, she was keeping it very well hidden and true to Jaime's word, he did the same) but she could not contain the grins her and Jaime would get on their faces when they would connect eyes across the hall or while walking past each other in the corridors of Winterfell. It was insanity to even try to fathom it, what they were doing behind closed doors, in the dead of night, while the whole castle slumbered around them. It was hard to fathom the way he would usher her quickly into his rooms, checking the hallway in case anyone had fallowed her and then closing and locking the door before they fell into each other's arms, laughing and grinning like two conspirators.

Even now, he still made her feel guilty.

She never regretted their trysts until _after _the lovemaking, (or 'fucking' as he insisted they use, 'For safety reasons,' He assured her, but she often wondered against what? Emotions?), when she lay in his arms in his bed, the covers and pillows thrown to the floor except for the sheet, which slung to their sweat soaked bodies like a second skin and as they desperately tried to catch their breath and ease their racing hearts.

When it was time for her to leave, just as dawn's rosy fingers came creeping up over the far horizon, it was all gentle kisses and whispered words of promise as he helped her into her nightgown and pulled the robe over her shoulders. When he would gently move her hair to fall over her shoulder so that he could press his lips to the back of her neck, Gabrielle often wanted to let out a sob at the well of emotions that would threaten to break through her carefully erected façade when she was with Jaime. He promised emotions wouldn't get in the way, but lately, with certain touches and kisses, his eyes would be full of an emotion she did not dare place . . . an emotion that was supposed to shine from Jon's eyes – and which did – not from the eyes of her lover.

Jaime . . . he was no longer the 'Kingslayer' to her, but his name felt foreign on her tongue. She didn't mind it so much in the heat of the moment, when his name would spill forth from her lips like some kind of prayer, him answering her with breathless laughs and a grin that made her want to melt underneath him until she actually would . . . her name spilling from his mouth in an equally ardent prayer, but afterwards, there was only one word flitting through her mind, blocking out all else,

_Jon . . . Jon . . . Jon . . ._

That was when the guilt would come rushing in, sweeping away any other kind of emotion with it, making her want to escape that room before even more guilt could take ahold of her.

She dressed quickly, Jaime not saying a word as he helped her braid her hair again and straighten her nightclothes so that there would be no awkward questions from anyone if she met anyone on the way back, and neared the doorway leading from his chambers, her hand upon the handle, ready to open it, when she felt his large hand slide into hers, their fingers entwining and quickly setting a pulse beat. Gabrielle's heart leapt into her throat and stayed there, even when he slowly turned her around and pulled her to him, his lips descending onto hers with a gentleness that surprised her. She hated him at that moment. She hated everything about him; the unlawfulness of his good looks, the mind-blowing way he knew how to use every one of his appendages in bed, but most of all, she hated his hypocrisy. It was perfectly fine for _him _to develop emotions, but he would quickly dash any of those she received. He did it unintentionally, of course, you could see it in his eyes, but that did not take the hurt away.

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><p><em>Jaime Lannister's POV . . .<em>

He had never been more envious of man before, than he was of Jon Snow.

Gabrielle was everything he had ever searched for in a woman. She had beauty; kindness and chastity that could make even the High Septon look like a whore. Or at least have one sweating like a sinner in chapel. But at night . . . when their clothes were removed and when nothing was holding them back, she was like a direwolf in bed. His back, which had been as smooth as a baby's ass back in King's Landing, was now so littered with half-dried bloody gashes from Gabrielle's nails raking down his back in the heat of the moment that it looked like he had been taken to the whip! It was no wonder Jon never went anywhere bare-chested anymore, even in the training ring.

Outside of the bed was almost even better. When they would sit up and talk, waiting for dawn to come, and when they weren't making furious love after furious love, he realized her intelligence. There was no one better at history in all the Seven Kingdoms, he wagered and just seeing the way an excited light would spear through her eyes as she talked about the history of the Targaryen family and their brother and sister marriages and the dragons that once roamed Westeros alongside giants and mammoths, made a grin come to his face and a softness appear in his eyes that he thought he would never get without looking at Cersei. He would be lying if he said it wasn't a major turn-on, especially when she would catch him looking at her so intently and flush an alluring pink that, more oftentimes than not, made him kiss her with such passion and fervency that sex was never that far away again. This was their foreplay . . . this was what made him love . . .

No. No, he would always shake his head when that thought appeared in his mind with Gabrielle's name in the same sentence. He promised her that emotions would never be thrown into their relationship, but occasionally, when his guard was down, he would let something slip past, something stupid that would make her blanch, make all color drain from her face. Like that night, when he looped his fingers with hers and kissed her with such gentleness that it made even himself doubt on whether or not he was in control of his actions when said event occurred. The Jaime Lannister he was comfortable with, was familiar with, was not gentle, he was not kind, he was the Kingslayer, a man who killed his own King for a chance to be named King in his place.

But when he was with her . . . when was with Gabrielle, feeling her body crushed so lusciously against his, hearing his name so breathless on her lips as she clenched around him, the primal action that made him breathless at the feeling and caused stars to explode behind his closed eyes . . . all he wanted to be was just 'Jaime', because to her, he was not just the Kingslayer, he _was _Jaime, with feelings and thoughts all his own and he fancied that, that was why he held so much affection for her. She never made him change; she did not get angry with him over trivial matters like whether Robert would figure out about their relationship when he was drunk senseless half the times and the other half, had such blinding hangovers that he could hardly tell which was his left hand and his right hand.

But maybe he did love her, and maybe he . . . maybe he _wanted _her to love him back. But with a man like Jon Snow as her husband, he knew it would never be possible. He would always be the other man, the man who was as dispensable as a pair of worn smallclothes, and for some reason, that thought alone made him sick to the stomach.

But when she pulled away from him and left his rooms without even offering a scant goodbye, he felt like she had ripped his heart out. He had to remind himself that she was half-Dothraki, though, a people who were well known for their harsh ways and biting words and fighting prowess. The more he slept with her, the more he got to know her, the more Dothraki that Gabrielle seemed to be.

For the first time, in a very long time, Jaime got down on his knees and prayed to the Gods for strength and guidance.

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><p><em>Ned Stark's POV . . .<em>

It had been the forth night in a week that he found himself leaving Whylla's bedchamber in the dead of night. It had the forth night in a week that he had made love to the one woman who had ever been able to make him forget his marriage vows to Catelyn and even though his mind kept screaming at him the wrongness of the whole thing, he found himself looking forward to his nights with Whylla. He had a new spring to his step and many commented on how younger he looked. He found himself playing with his children even more and a grin and a laugh came to him more easily. He also found himself practically running to her rooms at nights, something that did not keep her from laughing at him until he silenced her with his lips and tongue, making new words come to her breathless lips and replace the playful laughter.

This night was a silent one. He left his mistress (for indeed, that was what she was now, wasn't it? Technically speaking, she was, anyway) sleeping and although he dearly wanted to stay with her until morning, he did not want to give Catelyn any fuel to add to her already burning hatred of Whylla and Jon. He stood outside her doorway for a moment, savoring the wind which had gained a new sweetness to it ever since he resumed his torrential love affair with Whylla, but his eyes immediately caught sight of a hooded figure moving quickly down the corridors. Ned furrowed his eyebrows in confusion as he gazed at the figure pause and look around. When he caught sight of Ned Stark watching him, he froze and when Ned called to him, he took off as a breakneck run down the corridor.

"Hey! Hey, get back here!" Ned yelled as he took off at a run after the figure, chasing it through the corridors of the castle. He turned a corner but Ned beat him by taking a shortcut through a courtyard. When he grabbed his arm and wrenched him to him, words of anger on his tongue, he was shocked into silence by who he saw was underneath the hood.

"Gabrielle . . .?" He asked in breathless confusion, and Gabrielle swallowed heavily as she gazed up at her father-in-law. "Gabrielle, what are you doing in the halls at this time of night? Jon will be missing you if you do not return." Gabrielle nodded.

"I was returning to him when I saw you, Lord." She told him and he let go of her, where she flexed her arm. He had, had her in a vice-like grip and she wouldn't be surprised if there was a bruise there on the morrow. He gazed at her in confusion.

"But what are you doing up at this time of night? Why did you run?" Gabrielle shrugged nonchalantly, but he could tell she was hiding something.

"I couldn't sleep, so I went down to the stables to see my mare. I was on my back to Jon and the warmth of our bed when I saw you. I thought you were a guard who would take me to you or Catelyn and I panicked. I ran." She explained to him and Ned nodded, although she knew that he was still suspicious of her intentions. "Pray tell, what were you doing here, my Lord?" She asked him in turn, and he stumbled for the right words as he glanced behind him in the direction of Whylla's bedchamber door. He turned back to her and shrugged.

"The same as you, I suppose. I couldn't sleep and I was going for a walk to clear my head." Gabrielle nodded.

"May . . . May I return to bed, my Lord?" Ned nodded and a waved a hand.

"Yes, yes, of course, you may. I'm sorry to have kept you, Gabrielle." He apologized with a small smile and Gabrielle returned it as she turned around and made her way towards her chambers with Jon.

Ned's jaw hardened as he realized something.

The stables were in the opposite direction that she had come from.


	21. Chapter 20

**Okay so this is the farewell chapter between Gabrielle and Jaime (but for only a while, I promise :)) and I don't really like how I wrote it, but it works I guess. LOL and another thing . . . the children are older in this chapter, not quite one but they are walking and laughing if that's any clue lol**

**Anyway, enjoy!**

**Nagiana**

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><p><em>Jaime Lannister's POV . . .<em>

Cersei Lannister's anger was nothing compared to that of Gabrielle, his Dothraki Princess and in which she clearly had inherited her anger from.

Of course, everyone seemed angry at Jaime now, it seemed.

Cersei was angry at him because she had somehow figured out about his little trysts with a Northern woman (although she did not know who it was yet, Jaime thanked the Seven) and had ranted and raved, calling him an all matter of obscenities and screamed that he didn't love her anymore while he was all she ever thought about. Jaime had tried to calm her down, telling her everything that she wanted to hear (or what he _thought _she wanted to hear) from this unknown Northern woman had seduced him, to he still loved her and only her, but in the end, Cersei told their father like a spurned little girl and like a father reprimanding two of his young children, demanded that they make up. Jaime didn't want to, but he did and in the end, he was ordered back to King's Landing by his father when the court returned on progress.

And in the end she ignored him.

But what could he do? Jaime could only grit his teeth and ignore that she walked around on Jon's arms, laughing with him, kissing him, like nothing had ever happened . . . like Jaime had never happened.

Jaime Lannister never fancied himself the jealous type except for whenever it came to Cersei, but when it came to Gabrielle, there seemed nothing he could do to control his emotions around her. However, everyone was watching now, it seemed; Cersei, Ned, even that dratted bastard, Jon . . . especially Jon.

The last day the court was in Winterfell was also the first time that Gabrielle had been completely alone, her children excluded. Gabrielle's Lady, Maharet was also with her and had accompanied her and the children while they made their way to the ancient Godswood where Ned Stark seemed to spend the vast majority of his life in (especially more-so now that it was common knowledge that Ned Stark was sleeping with his bastard's mother now . . . the bastard mother that was still fertile) and the Godswood which caused Gabrielle to become a little bit more pious lately.

He wouldn't say he had stalked her, exactly, but he _had _fallowed her and even hung back when they reached the Godswood. He watched as Gabrielle gave Maharet leave to go for a few hours and then she and the children slipped into the Godswood, Nathaniel constantly talking in his little baby voice.

He made his way to the Godswood as well after Gabrielle, hoping against hope that she had forgiven him but stopped dead when he saw the huge albino direwolf lope in after them, his pink tongue wagging in the cool northern air. Jaime scowled when he saw the Bastard's direwolf hanging so protectively around his master's family.

Seemed Jon Snow wasn't as much of an idiot as the Southern people made him out to be. He _was _Ned Stark's son, after all.

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><p><em>Gabrielle Snow's POV . . .<em>

Gabrielle loved it here in the Godswood and the more she sat in front of the Godtree with its carved face and amber tears and blood red leaves, the more peaceful and contented she felt. She smiled a small smile and watched her children run around the Godswood, laughing and grinning as Ghost loped behind them, nipping playfully and gently at their heels. Gabrielle could not deny that she felt safer with the direwolf. He was such a huge presence in their lives and when he was around them, she felt like, somehow, that Jon was with them, hovering like a bodyguard over their shoulders and beside them.

The smile left her features and Gabrielle bowed her head and closed her eyes in fervent prayer. Like a worm gnawing at her heart, her relationship with Jaime Lannister refused to leave her. She prayed to the Forest God to relieve her of the guilt that plagued her soul, that threatened to devour her whole –

Gabrielle was broken out of her prayers by Ghost's low growling. Her eyes immediately shot onto the direwolf standing not far from her, protectively pushing the children away from whatever he saw. His gums were pulled away from his teeth, baring snow-white teeth and an angry, warning look in his pinkish-red eyes. His hackles were raised too, his shoulders hunched. He was conserving energy to leap.

Gabrielle turned around, her heart racing at whoever dared to try and hurt them in the sacred Godswood, but let out a relieved sigh when she saw it was only Jaime. She rose gracefully to her feet and laid a gentle hand on Ghost's neck, her fingers sliding almost lovingly through the thick white fur in a gesture meant to soothe. Ghost calmed down almost immediately; he closed his mouth and his hackles returned to normal, although a wary look still resided in his eyes as he gazed at Jaime. He even stopped pushing so frantically on the children, who relaxed as Ghost relaxed.

Ghost slowly moved to stand in front of Gabrielle now as well as the children, keeping his eyes on Jaime the entire time and there was nothing that Gabrielle could do to move the direwolf whose withers came up to her waist. She smiled a strained smile at Jaime, who returned it. Gabrielle's hand was still moving through the hair of his withers, her fingers gliding through the hair like water and with every soothing motion, she felt Ghost become calmer and calmer until he moved out of her way and went to sit by the children, who wrapped their arms around the large direwolf.

Jaime took a few steps closer to them but stopped with Ghost immediately growled and bared his teeth to the Kingslayer. Jaime nodded and bowed sarcastically. "Okay, okay, I get it!" He spoke, laughing a little and when he turned his eyes onto Gabrielle, he saw her eyes held a cold, unforgiving light that seemed to spear through his heart.

"What are you doing here, Jaime?" She asked him coldly, and Jaime shrugged.

"I came to apologize."

"You wanted to apologize for what?"

"I wanted to apologize for leaving you." Gabrielle scoffed and looked away, her eyes becoming as cold and hard as flint, her face as expressionless as the most thickly-blooded Dothraki.

"Please Jaime, save me your song. What we had was nothing . . . as I recall you telling me, it was just sex; emotions weren't allowed. So to answer your question, am I sorry your leaving? In a way, yes . . . but in another way, no," She looked down and smoothed out a wrinkle on her aquamarine colored skirts. "I'm sorry you're leaving because . . ." She laughed a little and turned her still cold-as-flint eyes onto his. "Because Jaime, you were really good in bed."

The words were like a shotgun blast to the chest. He was ashamed that he thought anything more would have come of this relationship. He was a member of the Kingsguard; he would hold the position until he died and he could take no wife. Gabrielle had a husband; she had children and a life here at Winterfell . . . why did he think that it could be anything different between them?

Gabrielle shot him a reassuring smile before she quietly gathered up the children and ushered them towards the gates leading out of the Godswood, Ghost careful to be between his family and the strange Lannister at all times.

Jaime allowed them to go in peace, knowing that if he didn't, it would only serve to drive Gabrielle further away from him.


	22. Chapter 21

**Okay, I am a million times sorry for not updating in what seems like a eon, but I've been busy with college (damn those ten-page papers! .) and I've been busy finishing up another one of my stories, which I have fully finished by the way (yes!) so now, I have more time to dedicate to my most loyal fans :). **

**Okay, this is kinda a boring chapter and I'm sorry for that, but I've been on somewhat of a writer's block with this story. I have the whole plotline mapped out (thank you Dark Alana :)) but I didn't know what I wanted to write, simply because these next couple of chapters are going to be something of filler chapters (don't you love writing those?), although I did know that I wanted to write another Daenerys/Sula part, which is what you open up with.**

**Well anyway, enjoy the chapter and the powerhouse last line at the end! **

**- Nagiana**

**PS. Hope you guys all love the Catelyn Stark I wrote in this chapter; after all, it is FANFICTION! ;)**

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><p><em>Daenerys Targaryn's POV . . .<em>

For as long as Sula would live, she would always detest childbirth. She detested the unnecessary pain, the blood and the senseless endangerment of her life, the life that should have been at the mercy of her _Khaleesi_, not the Earth Mother and her bloody childbirth.

Varterral plodded slowly down the muddy road, his ears flicking back and forth from his screaming and bloody master, to the road before them. One of the Dothraki midwives road behind her, Quotho riding behind them as well on his fire-colored stallion. Daenerys rode beside her, murmuring words of comfort, words of encouragement, while the Khal rode ahead of the procession with the rest of his Bloodriders, his body tensed in anxiousness at his sister's well-being.

"How is she doing?" Daenerys asked the midwife, who nodded and glanced at the white-haired Targaryen.

"She is strong, _Khaleesi_, and this son will be strong. It will not be long now." Daenerys and Sula could see the look of pride on Quotho's face at her words and his horse gently nudged aside Daenerys and her white mare to ride alongside Varterral and Sula. She grasped her mate's callused hand, felt his lips on her hair, his murmured words of loving encouragement in her ear and she knew he would stay beside her despite the disapproving gazes of the midwife.

Daenerys turned her horse to take Quotho's place behind the midwife and her eyes grew wide at what she saw. She saw the midwife arch an amused eyebrow at the young, still naive _Khaleesi_. "You honor me by being here, _Khaleesi_, but this is not a place for you." She told her but Daenerys ignored her.

"What's happening?"

The midwife sighed. "The babe is crowning; that's the top of his head there. It will not be long now, I suspect. Sula tends to give birth fast . . . like a mare . . ." The midwife gazed at Sula over the hill of her belly, a look of kindness on her face, and Sula smiled weakly back. Daenerys shook her head, her hand on the slight swell of her belly, where Drogo's son was growing strong with every breath she took, every morsel of food she ate.

"Are all childbirths like that?" She asked, thinking of her own impending childbirth, and the midwife shook her head as Sula let out a scream when another contraction hit her.

"No . . . Sula is a lucky one; others, not so much. I once supervised a woman who was in childbirth for three days and two nights. When she finally gave birth, the baby was a stillborn girl. She was an older woman, though, three years before her moonbloods were supposed to stop, I suspect," She nodded in Sula's direction. "Sula is young, however, young and fertile. Her mother was the same way. I delivered every one of Khal Barbo's seed, including Drogo, and each one of Barbo's seed came out within mere hours."

Sula let out a particularly long, drawn-out scream, squeezing Quotho's hand until it was practically bloodless. Daenerys watched in riveted interest as the middle-aged midwife skillfully and gently guided out the squalling boy from Sula's womb, slick with blood and other gook.

The midwife's voice brought Daenerys out of her reverie. "_Khaleesi_, the knife and blanket if you will . . ." Daenerys nodded as she reached into the midwife's saddlebag and withdrew the ancient knife and a roll of blankets. The midwife took one of the blankets first and used it to clean the squalling child of all the unneeded filth. She gazed at Quotho with a teasing look. "I can tell he is yours, my son!" She told him and Quotho could not help but grin as Daenerys looked back and forth between Quotho and the midwife.

Did the midwife just deliver her own grandson?

The midwife smiled at Daenerys as she wrapped the child in a clean blanket and traded him for the knife. Daenerys took the boy gently in her arms. "I am Sereda, _Khaleesi_. I am Quotho's mother and the most revered midwife in the clan. I will also be _your _midwife when the Earth Mother makes it your time." Daenerys bowed to the midwife, still stunned, the crying baby in her arms. A midwife was oftentimes afforded the same respect as the _dosh khaleen._ The midwives ushered in life, while the _dosh khaleen_ welcomed death.

Daenerys watched as Sereda the Midwife cut the cord connecting her grandson and his mother with the razor-sharp knife. She quickly tied it and after saying a quick prayer of thanks for the safe, quick birth and of future health and fertility for both the child and the mother, dabbed a drop of horse blood on the child's forehead. She then handed the child off to Sula and Quotho, who held him close.

"What will you name him?" She asked and both of the new parents paused, gazing at their child with interest.

"Temujin."

Everyone looked at Daenerys with surprise flickering through their faces. She blushed scarlet and looked down. "I mean – he looks like a Temujin . . . not-to-mention, the name means 'strong' in Dothraki. It fits." Sula smiled a small smile and nodded. Quotho's face was expressionless, a mask that Daenerys could not read and after a moment, he relented and nodded as well in agreement.

"We must honor the Sky Father by heeding the words of our Khal. Temujin it is . . . although Drogo was my first choice . . . funny the _Khaleesi _did not see that."

His words bit to the bone and left Daenerys no less bitter

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><p><em>Ned Stark's POV . . .<em>

_Three Months Later . . ._

"She's with child."

Whylla gazed at the man standing in front of her with his back facing her, in confusion. She sat up in bed, her long black curls moving to fall down her naked shoulders and back as Ned rubbed his forehead with the tips of his fingers, to better soothe away the migraine that threatened to come. "You are not happy?" She inquired curiously and Ned shook his head as he turned around to face her.

"I _am_ happy, Whylla, that's the thing! Gabrielle's new pregnancy is a gift from the Gods themselves! Jon's ecstatic, Gabrielle cannot wait, and even Nathaniel and Lark cannot wait to have a younger brother or sister . . ." He rubbed his face with his hands and Whylla tsked as she threw aside the covers. Rising naked, she moved over to him, where she smoothed her palms over his cheeks.

"You keep getting these headaches . . . it Catelyn?" Ned nodded miserably, with no hesitation.

"I cannot keep doing this, Whylla! Catelyn is my wife; she has given me four healthy, strong children! I cannot continue to treat her this way!" Whylla gazed at him pointedly.

"You cannot stop this anymore than I can, Eddard Stark. We are both too far into this. You leave me now and you will be crawling back to me in the hour; you know that!" Ned did not like to sound weak or petulant, but he knew she was right. He couldn't abandon her again . . . not like the first time. Whylla smiled a small smile.

"You should be happy for Jon, Ned. _He _is finally happy, after all." Ned smiled and nodded in agreement, although he turned to the window, where he watched the sun slowly rise over the horizon.

"I am Whylla, I am . . . I'm just wondering how long it will be before winter comes." Whylla's eyebrows crossed in confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"Every summer has a winter, Whylla. I'm just wondering when Jon's summer will end and usher in the winter."

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><p><em>Gabrielle Stark's POV . . .<em>

She had missed him. She really did.

Jon was her husband, her lover, her best friend. She had missed his presence around her, although she could not help but also miss her tawny Lannister Lion too, with his sarcastic comments and gentle eyes and touch when he summoned the resolve.

But she had missed Jon more.

She grinned and clapped alongside Maharet and the children as she watched Bran shoot another Bull's Eye with his bow and arrow, giving a grinning Jon a high-five when he sat how good he had done. The children were toddling around their skirts, their pudgy hands clapping and dirtying their clothes whenever they got off-balance and fell to the ground. Ghost lay at her feet, panting and watching the gallivanting children and their surroundings with a wary eye. He had already shown at the Godswood that he would kill to protect the children, and Gabrielle smoothed a hand through his stark white fur. He whined in contentment and nuzzled her hand as she did so, causing Jon to look over and grin.

"You're spoiling my direwolf, love!" He called to her and Gabrielle grinned in response as she continued rubbing his ear. The direwolf's red eyes were heavy lidded in contentment.

"He deserves to be spoiled!" She called back and Jon Snow grinned and shook his head as he turned back to his lesson with Bran, instructing him in something else right now.

Maharet watched her with a wary eye. "You tell me if the cold gets to you, my Lady. We cannot -"

"Harm the babe! Yes, I know, Maharet!" Gabrielle finished her midwife's sentence and then smiled indulgently at the older woman, who gazed at her with a look between amusement and matronly love. "And you will be the first to know if anything feels amiss, I promise. I have gone through this before, remember?" Maharet tsked.

"All pregnancies are different, my Lady," She told her. "And it takes a skilled eye to know if something is right or wrong." Gabrielle nodded in understanding before she turned back to watch. Jon was watching them out of the corner of his eye, taking in the semi-serious conversation and Gabrielle grinned and rolled her eyes playfully at her husband. Jon grinned and went back to what he was doing with Bran.

Gabrielle took in a deep breath of the cold Winterfell air and leaned back against the stone wall in contentment. Her hand was on her stomach, reveling in the child that grew within. She leaned her head back as well, growing tired but shot out of her reverie when everything seemed to fall quiet in the courtyard. Her children stopped laughing and babbling in their strange mixture of nonsensical gibberish and human language. The soft 'plunk' of Maharet doing needlework stopped and even Ghost stopped his panting.

She opened her eyes, where she saw the Lady Catelyn walking slowly into the courtyard, her two somber ladies trailing behind her. She had taken to wearing black lately, which many guessed was a catty reaction to her husband spending more time in his mistress's bed than hers and that she would _continue _to wear it so long as he done so. Gabrielle thought it was very petulant, but then again, who was she to judge.

The Lady Catelyn smiled a small, loving smile at her son, who returned it before she continued on her perusal of the courtyard. She saw Gabrielle sitting with Maharet, her two children and the direwolf and smiled another small smile. She made her way over to them and Gabrielle stiffened, all too aware of the last time the two of them met in the courtyard under eerily similar circumstances.

They inclined their heads to each other and Catelyn asked if she could sit beside her. Gabrielle nodded stiffly and scooted aside, allowing Catelyn the seat next to her. They watched the lesson silently together for a moment before Catelyn looked down, nervously wringing her hands together in her lap.

"I have been . . . unfair to you and your family . . ." She began hesitantly, and Gabrielle continued to watch the lesson, all too aware of part of Jon's attention on them and their conversation. She opened her mouth to continue, but Gabrielle interrupted her coldly, her eyes still on Jon and Bran.

"What brought this about, Catelyn? Have you genuinely come to see the error of your ways, or are you doing this because of everything that is going on between Ned and Whylla?" Maharet gasped at Gabrielle's impertinence, but Catelyn shrugged and shook her head lamely.

"It is a little of both, I think. Whylla is still fertile . . . blatantly fertile and I think . . . if she were ever to bare him another child – another bastard - I would not be able to take it." Gabrielle shook her head.

"That is the will of the Gods. It has nothing to do with you. But if you ask me, there should be more bastards in the world." Maharet gasped again and murmured her lady's name in shock, but Catelyn gazed at her in interest.

"What makes you say that?" Gabrielle shrugged her shoulders.

"Bastards may be products of war and rape, but they can also be products of love. Ned loves Whylla, more-so than I have ever seen. Jon is a product of that love, and ever since she returned, I have seen a change in him. He is less cool, quick to anger. He is more affection, loving . . . bastards may be hot-blooded, but I have seen some who are the most loving, kind people in the world. It is women like you, who banish their mother's in fits of jealously, that make them hot-blooded and dangerous."

Catelyn opened her mouth to speak again, but Gabrielle held up hand, effectively silencing her. "Granted, there are marriages that are full of love. My father has never loved a woman as he has loved my mother. I love Jon with every ounce of my being and I think the same goes from him. I have no doubt that Ned does not love you and vice versa, but then again . . . Whylla has always been his true love." Catelyn nodded slowly.

"I know . . . I know. I can see that every night at dinner, with every glance they exchange, every touch they deal. Ned is like a young man in love again and . . . for once, it's not with me."

"My Lady Catelyn, what does this have to do with me?" She asked in exasperation and a look of mourning appeared on her face.

"Speak to Jon. Maybe he can talk to Whylla -"

"You honestly think that the mother of the boy you treated like dog shit on the bottom of your boot heel for eighteen years is going to willingly bow aside and allow you to resume your old life?" She interrupted her, shaking her head in disgust. "If you do, then you're more of an idiot than I thought!" Gabrielle stood then and Maharet stood with her. After gathering up her children and sharing a pointed look with Jon, Gabrielle inclined her head to Catelyn. "Your words offend, Catelyn. You treated my husband horribly throughout his life, and you blatantly refer to our children as 'the spawn of that bastard' in public. I would no sooner help you than I would help an insane person bent on slaughter!"

She left then, her children in her and Maharet's arms and Maharet trailing beside her. "Do you think that was the wisest course of action? A dog backed into a corner will no doubt go rabid." Gabrielle sighed.

"Quite frankly, Maharet, I don't give a damn."


	23. Chapter 22

**Okay, I know that I'm veering from the storyline a little bit, but the woman introduced in this chapter, is going to be a huge character in the last couple of chapters in this story - although do not fret! This story is LONG from over :).**

**Another thing . . . I hate to inform all you JaimexGabrielle fans, but the child that Gabrielle is pregnant with, IS NOT Jaime Lannister's, nor will any other child she has, will be. I'm sorry, but I never intended for her to get pregnant with Jaime's child, even when I first started writing their affair. After all, this is a JonxOC fic and how would it be Jon situated if Gabrielle had another man's child? Okay, maybe it would a little bit, but quite frankly, I don't wanna open that can of worms in this fanfic lol.**

**Anyway, enjoy!**

**- Nagiana**

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><p><em>Jon Snow's POV . . .<em>

Robb Stark was so excited; he had even his horse excited.

They were riding through the forest trails, their breath fogging and leaving little puffs of smoke in front of them. The same went for their horses, who acted like they would have liked nothing more but to be warm and safe in their stalls, contenting munching on some bran mash and oats with maybe a blanket slung over their backs.

But no. They were out riding in the forest in the middle of Winterfell's cold season, with a man who talked too much and a man who did not tell his half-brother to calm down!

Jon laughed as Robb continued babbling on, his motions theatrically animated and his breath shaky as he talked about her.

"I mean, come on, Jon! She's _beautiful_! Almost as beautiful as Gabrielle, but that's beside the point -"

Jon laughed again and clamped a hand on his half-brother's shoulder, where he grinned good-naturedly. "Calm down Robb! Not-to-mention, maybe it would help me to be less confused if you told me her name!"

Robb tried to hide the blush that quickly spread across his face but he calmed down nonetheless. "Her name is . . . Gwyneth . . . Gwyneth Thorneblood."

Jon could not help his eyes widening in shock. "Are you talking about Gwyneth Thorneblood of _the _Thornebloods? You are talking about the same Thornebloods that are father's most loyal vassals, the most vicious and vindictive of his vassals?" Robb nodded, his eyes darkening stubbornly. He took a little bit heavier hand on the reins and his horse tossed his head in protestation as the chestnut warhorse sat back on his haunches and reared a couple of inches off the snowy forest floor. Robb barely noticed.

"Mother says that she's too mysterious, that she looks to have too many secrets to become my wife and the future Lady of Winterfell, but I've met with her Jon! Gwyneth is only mysterious because she's shy, and who _doesn't_ have secrets? After all it took father years to admit that Whylla was his mistress to your face!" Jon nodded in agreement and chuckled.

"Well, you know how I feel about your mother and her little 'gems' of wisdom." He spoke sarcastically, a little coldly, and Robb scoffed and nodded.

"I know that only too well. However, I've come to my decision, and if father supported you and Gabrielle's marriage, then surely he'll support a marriage between me and Gwyneth, especially, as you have stated, she is a Thorneblood. Starks and Thornebloods have been marrying for centuries, why not again now? Our children can only strengthen the seat of Winterfell." Jon shrugged.

"If she's pretty, then I suppose that's all that matters . . ." Robb shook his head stubbornly again.

"But she's not just pretty, Jon! She's intelligent, she's kind and some even say she's a shrewder tactician that even her father and Robert Baratheon combined!" Jon scoffed in amusement.

"It's not that hard to surpass Robert now, Robb. I wouldn't exactly use him as an example," He teased. "Although, Gregoir Thorneblood certainly has nothing bad to stain his name, I'd wager. He was a man who sired nothing but one daughter, this daughter could both seduce a Priest out of his robes while simultaneously fighting the Wildlings," Jon grinned and glanced at his brother, his eyes twinkling affably. "Seems you've picked a hellion . . ." Robb rolled his eyes at his brother's words.

"You get what I mean, Jon! I . . . I love her, and I'm pretty sure her feelings are the same! We've written each other many times, we meet whenever we can . . . I can't see myself living without her now!" Jon smiled a small smile as they moved their horses into a brisk trot.

"Well, you're not _as _bad looking as the other noblemen in Westeros, so I suppose her feelings _could _be the same . . ."

"You are an ass!" Robb laughed as he punched Jon playfully in the arm, who immediately broke out into laughter. He trailed off, a weak smile on his face

"I suppose I'll stand by you, Robb. What are brothers for, anyway? After all, you stood by me and Gabrielle, even when your mother admitted to you her desires for a marriage between you two before we ever became an item." Robb smiled thankfully.

"You will have my forever gratitude, Jon, if this works out. I'll just have to talk to dad about it, I suppose. How . . . how did you manage?" Jon scoffed.

"Easy . . . I had uncle Benjen with me on my side." He spoke and nudged his horse into a faster gait, but Robb held him back. Jon reined his horse to a stop, his horse tossing his head and snorting irritably, wanting nothing more but to gallop across the plain to Winterfell and his warm stall and blanket.

"And what about . . . I mean, I've been meaning to ask you . . . what about children?" Jon cocked an eyebrow at him in amusement.

"What do you want to know . . . other than the fact that they are extremely fun to make?" Robb grinned and laughed a little.

"No, just . . . is it hard . . . being a father?"

It was common knowledge now, all-throughout Winterfell, that the Lady Gabrielle was with child again, and rumored to be growing as big as a house, although Jon wouldn't exactly put her that big as of late. Some people in the castle and village prophesized that it would twins again, but others - including Gabrielle's mother and Maharet – said that it would be only one son this time. Everywhere you looked, though, it was always a son that would be born, never a girl. Jon didn't know whether to laugh or roll his eyes every time he heard that it would be a boy and not a girl.

A thoughtful look appeared on Jon's face then as he held back his prancing horse. "It is . . . _hard,_ although I wouldn't exactly use that word as of yet, speaking they are not old enough to get into any real trouble. But it is also . . . oddly gratifying. I love my children, Robb, and I will love this next one just as much as I love the twins, but every time you look and see your child walk or run or say his first word, you cannot help but feel . . . _proud _that, that is your child. Even though every child on earth has to take his first steps or learn his first words, it still . . . makes you proud knowing that, that child is yours."

"What about marriage? Even now, you and Gabrielle's love has not waned." Jon shrugged his shoulders.

"We've been through trials . . . hardships, it all natural, Robb, I promise. Like raising children, it's hard, but oddly gratifying too. I mean, I can see how you could loathe your wife if you were in an arranged marriage like they do in King's Landing, but . . . I love Gabrielle, Robb. We'd known since we were children that we'd be married and live together forever. And that fact . . . has been a thing that has helped us keep our marriage alive."

Robb smiled a small smile and chuckled. "You make it sound so easy."

Jon grinned and chuckled in turn as his horse turned a full circle, its flanks shivering in anticipation of the upcoming gallop. "It isn't Robb . . . and I'm not stupid enough to think it is."

Both of Ned Stark's sons stayed silent for a while, Jon fighting to hold back his dapple-gray warhorse, until Jon broke the silence with narrowed eyes. "Why are you asking all these sudden questions, Robb? You act like you've committed murder."

As if mirroring his owner's uneasiness, Robb's chestnut warhorse shifted uneasily from white stocking foot to white stocking foot. Robb gingerly rubbed the back of his neck as he answered his half-brother.

"I . . . might have done something . . ."

Jon groaned and rolled his eyes as he moved his horse over to stand next to Robb. "Robb, what have you done?" He asked his brother firmly, and Robb averted his eyes to the forest floor.

"You know that I went to visit the Thornebloods as a political envoy for father for the last few weeks, right?" Jon nodded.

"Yes, of course. I ready to tear my hair out in boredom before you came back!"

Robb chuckled and shrugged. "Well, I became rather close to Gwyneth and . . . we might have secretly married . . . with witnesses and everything."

Jon's eyes widened in abject horror as he gaped for words; appalled by his brother's words. "Robb, are you bloody stupid? Do you know what you have done?" Robb winced, but held up his hand.

"There's more . . . the marriage was consummated, and she might have . . . we might have . . ." Robb swallowed heavily. "We might have conceived a child. She went through the three days, feigning illness, and by the time I left, she really was sick," Robb's voice lowered. "We didn't know what to do. We are in love Jon and neither one of us could bare to live with the fact that our parents might not want us to marry. So we did what made sense to us -"

"So you two had a secret marriage?" Jon spoke in incredulity. "Robb, do you know what this means? If father figured out and did not want this marriage, you could be sent to the Wall . . . or worse!" Robb rolled his eyes.

"If the marriage was consummated, then I cannot be sent to the Wall. If she's with my child, then I cannot be sent to the Wall. Jon, I only . . . I love this woman. I was willing to do whatever was possible to make sure that we could be together." Jon rolled his eyes again, almost mirroring Robb's exact movement. "I did what you and Gabrielle did -"

"No, you didn't Robb!" Jon snapped. "I and Gabrielle had father's permission; we were married under church and state in the Godswood, with witnesses to both our marriage ceremony and the after-marriage feast! Robb, if this girl is pregnant, you run the risk of this child being declared a bastard, simply because you weren't married under church and state, and believe it coming from someone who grew up a bastard, being a bastard is not fun! It is not a walk in the fucking park, Robb!" Jon looked away in disgust. "Do you know how stupid you've been?"

A look of stubbornness had descended onto Robb's face then. "You promised me that you would support me and Gwenyth." He reminded him and Jon's lips pursed. This could be dangerous. If, for some reason, Ned was angry that Robb had married a woman without his knowledge (which he probably would) and word got out that Jon had _supported _their decision, very hard times could fall onto him and his family, even with his mother being his father's mistress.

But, however much he wanted to hate him, Robb _was_ his brother, a brother who was in love and pretty deep shit, and Jon wasn't about to take that love away from him when it would probably be the only weapon he had in his arsenal.

Jon put a hand to his head and shook it. "I don't know why I'm agreeing to help you but . . . I promise that I won't leave you hanging." He told him and Robb smiled gratefully as they clasped arms.

"What would I do without you Jon?" Jon smirked.

"You'd probably find yourself on a one-way ticket to both a divorce and the Wall. Come on . . . let's go break the news to dad and half of Winterfell." Robb held back, looking a tad uneasy, and Jon laughed. "Robb, I was kidding about the half of Winterfell part . . . at least I hope I was."

* * *

><p><em>Gwyneth Thorneblood's POV . . .<em>

The last time she had seen Robb Stark, she had almost cried.

She was her father's only child, a high-spirited, independent daughter with hair the color of melted chocolate, although it was not nearly as shiny as the treat. Her face held a light splattering of freckles across both cheeks and the bridge of her nose that could or could not be considered beautiful, depending on who you compared her to. Her eyes were the color of ivy, fresh, emerald green ivy growing in the middle of spring, and that was her best feature.

Robb Stark was the polar opposite of her, however.

The first time she had saw him; she had been on a trip to Winterfell with her father and stepmother when she was only six. Robb had been sword training with Ser Jory and his bastard brother, Jon Snow, out in the training ring in the courtyard of the castle. Both of them had been cocky – indeed, Robb still was, although from what he had told her, Jon had become less so ever since he had sired children of his own – and handsome, Robb with his Tully red hair and Jon looking the epitome of a Winterfell Stark. She remembered the loathing that Catelyn Stark would have on her face when she would gaze at Jon but the kindness and lovingness that she would hold when she would gaze upon her own children.

Gwyneth didn't know whether to hate her or feel pity for her whenever she would notice the quick change in Lady Stark's demeanors.

She had cried, because of how much Robb had changed, and how quickly he had to leave her.

He was different than when he was a boy. He was more mature, much more intelligent and keen with a blade. He was indeed Ned Stark's son, although, in his opinion, he was nothing compared to Jon, although he would always admit this with the fondest look in his eyes. Robb Stark loved his bastard brother, alongside Arya and Bran, leaving Sansa the only Stark that held the view of her mother.

He was also much handsomer. The light auburn shade he had held as a boy, had now turned a deep, coppery red, his bright blue eyes growing more mature, more expressive. He had grown taller, although not as lean as Jon had been, he was a tad bit more muscular.

And this man was her husband.

He had asked for her hand when she had led him to the stone bridge linking the rest of the North from her father's castle, Griffon's Peak, which was suspended over the rushing black waters of the Last River. It had been night, every star in the Northern sky shining perfectly marking the constellations of the Twins, the Great bear and even the Maiden who lost her love by a jealous husband. Even though she was wearing robes of her own, she was tucked inside Robb's, feeling the warmth of his body spreading over hers, making her blush slightly at the close proximity of their bodies, which would have made their chaperone have a heart attack if she had been there.

Thankfully, she wasn't, or that night would never have turned out the way it had.

He had asked for her hand and she had gladly to given it to him . . . quite literally. He had taken her by the hand and upon kissing her and telling her of his plan (of which she had readily agreed) went to the small Godswood located a few yards outside of Griffon's Peak. With Gwyneth's two close cousins and Grey Wind being the three witnesses, they had married each other in a secret ceremony underneath the God tree, both of them reveling when the rings were placed on their fingers and the golden thread was entwined around their arms.

But nothing had compared to their wedding night.

He had gently taken her hand and while the two of them snuck through the corridors of the stone palace to her rooms, both giggling like two conspiratorial children, Gwyneth knew that this between them was real. She felt it in the air between them, but the way he clutched so gently at her hand, the loving pulse beat between their entwined fingers. She knew she never wanted to live without this feeling again, and when they reached her room what seemed like seconds later . . . Oh, Gods, her heart had never beat so hard in her life! It never beat so hard as when she saw the naked body of Robb – her husband - leaning above her on the bed, the lovingness in his eyes and in his touch as he prepared her for the quick flash of pain that she felt when he finally entered her and made her his, and the shocks of desire that shot up their bodies as they consummated their dangerous marriage, both clinging tightly to each other at they hit their peaks.

She had never felt more love in her life that when he whispered words of love in her ear as he came inside her, as the warmth of his seed spread throughout her womb. He had held her so gently after, held her as they slept, and when morning came, he took her again before he left to return to his men and her father's court, his whispered words of love and devotion returning to his lips as he left, promising to return that night.

And like all Northern women before her, like Jon Snow's wife before her, on the second night of the Three Days, Gwyneth felt the instinctive quickening in her womb that signified that Robb's seed had taken hold. For better or for worse, she was with child.


	24. Chapter 23

**Okay, this chapter is a little bit long, I know that, but this is Gwyneth's introduction chapter to the semi-dysfunctional Stark family, and really, and I kind of wanted to put a little drama into it, of course, and as you can see from her conversation with Gabrielle :). Not-to-mention, as I have stated previously, she will be playing a semi-key part in later chapters (both as a pawn of Catelyn's (SPOILER!) and as a key figure in two other events. I kind of wanted to fill her out a little bit before jumping right into the next chapter, which will herald another muchly anticipated Jaime chapter (Everyone throws confetti in the air and cheers (seriously folks, why am I the only one who likes Gabrielle with Jon O.o)).**

**Anyway, thanks everyone for taking the time to read, let's get those reviews up to 100! :)**

**- Enjoy**

**Nagiana**

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><p><em>Jon Snow's POV . . .<em>

Ned Stark's anger was nothing compared to that of Catelyn Stark's when Robb told his parents that he was married and expecting a child with said wife. Ned's anger was curbed slightly by the presence of Whylla standing beside him, but Catelyn's seemed uncontrollable.

"Robb, what have you done?" She demanded, and Robb glared at her stubbornly as Gabrielle entered the room, a bundle of silent blankets in her arms. Jon smiled a small smile when she entered the room with their newborn son, and Gabrielle returned it as she moved to stand behind him, her hand moving down to clutch his.

"What are you doing here?" He hissed, his eyes staying on the scene unfolding before them, and Gabrielle leaned forward to answer him:

"I don't really know. Ned requested that I be here, and I came. They are cleaning out our rooms and the nursery, so I had to bring the babe with me." Jon nodded at his wife's answer, and glanced down at his son in her arms, with his mop of black hair and deep blue eyes that constantly swiveled in his tiny head as he observed everything around him. Jon smiled a small smile.

"How is he?" Gabrielle smiled and nodded.

"Well. His nursemaid told me that he was a little colically last night, but it wasn't anything that the Maester couldn't help." Jon nodded as both of the Snows turned their eyes back onto the scene as Robb answered his mother.

"I did what my heart told me, mother. I married the woman I loved in a valid ceremony; can you fault me for that?"

"Yes!"

It was the first word that Ned had spoken, and it was harsh and cold. Whylla placed a hand on Ned's shoulder, causing him to calm down slightly, an action that caused Catelyn to purse her lips as she turned her eyes back onto her oldest son. Robb was gazing at his father with a look of almost betrayal.

"What do you mean father?" He asked and Ned sighed.

"You married the daughter of one of my most loyal, powerful bannermen, I will give you that. However, did you not once think about the political repercussions that could have come from this? I could have promised you to a daughter of one of my other bannermen . . . a Bolton or a Reed. Now, I cannot."

Jon had to hand it to his brother; at least Robb had the decency to look guilty at their father's words.

"I . . . I love her father. I didn't want to marry anyone but her -"

"But that wasn't your decision to make, Robb!" Catelyn interrupted him, taking a few steps toward her son. "That was your father's decision, to be made to further the advancement of the family!"

"What would have been the use of Ned choosing a bride that Robb did not or could not love, Catelyn?" Whylla spoke quietly, her hand still on Ned's shoulder. "That could only have resulted in more Snow bastards. Robb would have begotten the girl with child after child, yes, but he also would have taken the Thorneblood girl as his mistress as well. It would only have served to slander the family name, not boost it. Maybe people should marry for love more often . . . maybe there would be less bastards in the world."

Catelyn looked like she would have liked nothing more than to run Whylla through with a sword. Her word had been a huge insult. Not only had she just refuted Catelyn's words but Ned, Catelyn's husband, had done nothing to stop her.

"Like your bastard, you mean?" Catelyn shot back, and Whylla's face darkened in anger, the same as Jon's.

"I'm standing right here, you know -!"

"How dare you presume to talk about my son that way -?"

"Whylla, Catelyn, be quiet!" Ned shouted over their shouts, and the two women reluctantly quieted down. Catelyn looked away, her lips pursed in anger and Whylla crossed her arms in front of her chest and looked away as well. Jon felt Gabrielle' hand squeeze his and he squeezed back, causing her to relax slightly. Jon knew this would be this way. Robb had done something extremely stupid and right now, he was reaping what he had sowed.

Silence filled Ned's study for a moment, becoming heavy and almost suffocating before the Stark patriarch chose to break it. When he spoke, his voice was tenuous at best, almost as if he was forcing himself to be calm.

"I received a message from Gregoir Thorneblood earlier this afternoon, before you came to tell me this of your own accord. I admit, I was angry at first – very angry – but then I thought about it and I realized that if you did indeed have a legal ceremony and if the young woman is definitely with child, as both her and her father testifies, we will have no choice but to let the marriage be."

The look of joy on Robb's face was almost blinding but disappeared when Ned started speaking again:

"I have sent for her and she should arrive around noon tomorrow but there is a term you must agree with Robb!" He told him and Robb nodded.

"Yes, of course father!"

"If she loses the child, for whatever reason, you must set her aside. Losing a child is long thought of as the Gods' disfavor for a marriage, you know that . . ." He told him, and although Robb pursed his lips in irritation that was almost a spitting image of his mother, he bowed slightly. Although he didn't want to, Jon knew he had to agree with Ned. The Gods' disfavor was never as more evident than the loss of a child in the womb. Not every couple could have accrued as much favor as Jon and Gabrielle did in the birth of their twins.

"Yes, I understand father." He spoke tersely, and Ned nodded.

"Gabrielle shall become her patron whilst she is here and will be one of the first to greet her when she arrives. Is that fine with you?" He turned his eyes onto Gabrielle at his words, and Gabrielle nodded.

"Of course I will. I daresay she might need a friend." She agreed and Ned stood.

"Well, I'm glad that is settled," He grinned and held out his arms. "Now, let me see my newest grandson!"

Gabrielle returned the grin as she stepped forward and handed Ned his grandson. The boy gazed up at his grandfather with a look mixed between disbelief and baby-like curiosity. This impossibly bearded man with the kind eyes was his grandfather? He looked akin to a bear more than a grandfather.

Ned glanced at them. "It is bad luck to name a child before he reaches his first birthday, but do you two have any ideas?" He asked them as Whylla, beaming, moved to gaze over Ned's shoulders at her grandson as well. Jon and Gabrielle shared a look before Gabrielle stepped forward and placed a hand on Ned' arm.

"With your permission, we would like . . . to name him after you, Ned. Eddard Snow."

Whylla couldn't look happier, but Catelyn wanted to shriek and rage as Ned smiled kindly and gave his permission for the babe to carry his name upon his first birthday. The baby was the child of a bastard, he was not fit to carry Ned's name! That privilege should have went to the child that Robb was carrying, but Catelyn knew when he word was not taken as heavily as it had been before Whylla came back. She left the room with a terse smile and a slight bow, fuming when Ned and the others didn't even notice when he left.

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><p><em>Gabrielle Snow's POV . . .<em>

The wind was bitter cold as she stood in the front courtyard, waiting for the procession and scarlet banners that signified the Thorneblood girl's imminent arrival. She wrapped her scarf tighter around her mouth and nose, her gloved hands shoved down into the pockets of her fur robes. Jon stood beside her with Robb standing beside him, both men as visibly shivering as she was. Ghost was nowhere in sight although Greywind stood ever watchful by Robb's side. Ghost was probably with the children, curled up beside them as they played or continued their studies, or padding beside them and Maharet as they walked through the gardens or the castle.

Soon, the scarlet banners of the Thorneblood procession was seen on the road leading up to Winterfell Castle, the Thorneblood sigil of a gray steel longsword wrapped in thorn on a scarlet background, shone like a beacon in the bright Northern sun. Despite the sun, however, there was still a harsh chill to the air that had all of them shivering even more as the Thornebloods rode into Winterfell.

The horses stopped in front of the group of people, their horses prancing with the cold and their breaths coming out in little wisps of fog. Robb stepped forward, beaming, and helped a young woman down from a pretty red roan mare, and set her down gently on her feet. She was barely showing through the heavy fur robes, and the two newlyweds smiled at each other as Robb took Gwyneth's hand and led her forward to his brother and sister-in-law.

"Gwyneth, this is my half-brother, Lord Jon Snow and his wife, the Lady Gabrielle Snow. Gabrielle will be your patron for your first couple of weeks in Winterfell, and what we hope will be a good friend to you." Gabrielle smiled kindly at the girl, in which case Gwyneth smiled hesitantly back. While Gabrielle could hold it back more expertly, Jon was having a hard time comprehending how young the woman was! She was two years younger than Gabrielle's twenty years at the most, maybe even seventeen! Robb was a month older than Jon's twenty-three years, making him twenty-three as well.

"We welcome you to Winterfell, Lady Gwyneth . . ." Gabrielle greeted her graciously, her voice bringing Jon out of his thoughts long enough to smile and return the greeting. Gwyneth returned it as well, and the four of them turned around, where they walked into the Great Hall to greet Ned and Catelyn, Gregoir Thorneblood's bannermen trailing behind them. As always, Whylla was standing just behind Ned and the startled looks on each of their faces betrayed their shock at the girl's age as well. However, each of them expertly hid it as Robb and Gwyneth neared them, Catelyn and Ned smiling graciously at the young woman. Catelyn hated how Gwyneth was nowhere near as lovingly brought into the family fold like Gabrielle had been, but finally, there was another daughter-in-law who would share Gabrielle's monopoly of spotlight.

"Welcome to Winterfell, Gwyneth," Ned greeted her. "I am very happy to have you in the family. Gregoir is like a brother to me, I am happy our families have a chance to grow closer." Gwyneth smiled graciously in turn and Catelyn greeted her in a similar fashion, except she threw in a hug for good measure. Jon and Gabrielle couldn't help but roll their eyes at each other, each knowing that Catelyn was already hatching something in her mind.

Ned smiled and gestured to Gabrielle. "I can trust that Gabrielle will show you to you and Robb's quarters?" Gabrielle nodded and smiled in return. "Jon and Robb would go with you, but we have to meet with my advisors. We shall see you two at dinner?" He asked, and the girls nodded as Ned pressed a chaste kiss on Catelyn's lips before turning around. He smiled weakly at Whylla, who returned the smile and curtsy as he walked past. Robb did the same with Gwyneth and then turned and fallowed his father, but Jon hung back a little.

"How young is she?" Jon whispered as both of them glanced at the young girl who was politely waiting for Gabrielle to join her, her wide green eyes taking in everything in the Great Hall. Winterfell was probably twice as large as Griffon's Peak, something that Gwyneth would have to quickly get used to. Gabrielle shrugged.

"Seventeen . . . eighteen at the most – you didn't tell me Robb had married someone so young!" She whispered back and Jon shrugged.

"That's because I didn't know!" He told her and Gabrielle smiled as she put her hands on Jon's shoulders and kissed him gently, lovingly. He returned the kiss and they broke apart a moment later when Robb turned around and called Jon's name to hurry up. Jon smiled and pressed a kiss to Gabrielle's temple.

"I love you and have fun!" Gabrielle returned the smile.

"I love you too, and I certainly hope so!" Jon grinned and laughed as he turned and ran after Robb, nodding at Gwyneth as he ran past her. Gabrielle smiled gently as she made her way over to Gwyneth. She gestured down a nearby hallway.

"Robb's rooms are down this way, Lady Gwyneth." She said and Gwyneth smiled a small smile and fallowed her, both women walking in-step. They stayed in relative silence for a moment until Gwyneth hesitantly broke it.

"Robb . . . talks a lot about you and your husband, my Lady. He is very fond of you . . . especially Jon." Gabrielle smiled and chuckled.

"Well, they did grow up together and I and Robb courted at one point . . ." An uneasy look appeared on Gwyneth's face at that moment, and Gabrielle laughed and patted her comfortingly on the shoulder. "Don't think anything of it, Gwyneth! I love Jon, I have always loved Jon; you will have no competition with me when it comes to Robb. Me and Jon have our children -"

"Yes, he mentioned in his letters that you had just given birth . . ." Gwyneth interrupted her, and Gabrielle gazed at her pointedly for a moment before she answered.

"Yes . . . our third child and second son, Ned. He was named after Jon and Robb's father, Eddard Stark, Ned for short." Gwyneth nodded and it was Gabrielle's turn to ask a question. "Robb mentioned that _you _were with child?" Gwyneth nodded as they turned a corner and made their way on the long stretch of hallway leading to Robb's quarters.

"Yes."

"Congratulations."

"Thank you."

They descended into another awkward silence in which Gabrielle sensed the hostility rolling off of Gwyneth in waves. She didn't understand it. At first, Gwyneth had been nice but shy; now, she was a hair's breadth from treating her like Catelyn did.

They finally reached the door leading to Robb's quarters, and the two women turned to each other. Gabrielle smiled kindly. "If you need anything, don't be afraid to send one of your handmaidens to find me. I'll probably be in the nursery." Gwyneth nodded in understanding.

"Yes, I will. Thank you."

She opened the door and slipped into Robb's rooms, her reply as curt and cold as her demeanor had been.


	25. Chapter 24

**Oky, again apologies for not updating his story in forever, I had end-of-term exams I had to focus on and I was really having a roll with another story of mine. I know this chapter is pretty long, but once I started writing, I couldn't stop!**

**I don't really like how I wrote Jon and Gabrielle's opening chapter, but I "adore" the last two parts of this chapter. They were the two that I could not stop writing once I began and I really think they turned out well :)**

**Enjoy, and its good to be back!**

**- Nagiana**

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><p><em>Gabrielle Snow's POV . . .<em>

When Gabrielle arrived back at her bedchamber from tucking the children into bed that night and making sure that Ned was comfortably warm, she found that she was more exhausted than she had previously thought. As tiring as it was, she was starting to intensely resent having to lead Gwyneth around the castle and village for these next couple of weeks like a master and his dog. When it came to Gwyneth (although she had not formally spent time with Catelyn yet) Gabrielle still got the feeling that Gwyneth held some similar views that Catelyn did, especially when it came to how Ned treated them and his grandchildren over Robb and the others.

Jon had been laying atop the covers of their bed, a book open in his hand and an amused smile on his face when she entered. Gabrielle gave him an exhausted look and he chuckled as she took off her robes. Naked, she moved over to the nearby basin of water, where she cupped the icy, rose-scented water in her hands and splashed it on her face. She shivered at the iciness of the water when it hit her skin and ran in rivulets down her body.

"Honestly, would it hurt for the servants to heat up the water before they brung it up?" She asked, her tone as cold as the water she was now splashing on her neck, her breasts, and Jon smiled a weak smile.

"Did you have a tough day, my dear?" Gabrielle turned around at the waist and shot him a 'what-do-you-think' look. He chuckled again at that, one of his eyebrows raised in his customary amusement. His eyes resumed their spot in the book, and Gabrielle sighed as she continued to splash the water onto her skin.

"I mean . . . I know Robb loves her, but she's so . . . _ignorant_! I can't help but feel that even though they have not spend any time together as of yet, we have another, _younger _Catelyn on our hands!" Jon tore his eyes away from the book and placed them back onto Gabrielle. He shrugged then and sighed.

"Maybe she's just unsure of what her place is here. I mean, think about it Gabi, she's a young girl in a completely new place that, for the longest time, has been ruled primarily by you and my mother. I wouldn't be surprised if you're misinterpreting that ignorance for intimidation!" He shrugged again as he went back to his spot in the book. "I don't blame her, personally, but I do agree with you. If she doesn't change her outlook on things, I wouldn't be surprised in Catelyn tries to make her, her pawn."

Gabrielle shrugged a half-hearted shrug as she scooped up another handful of water and poured it on her back. The water ran down her back, snaking along her spine and over the curve of her ass to plop down on the floor. Jon watched with a wry smile before he spoke.

"She is very beautiful, Robb was right . . ." He spoke and Gabrielle glanced behind her at him, not sure how to take those words but playing along to see where it led.

"Yes, she is . . . I can see how Robb fell in love with her." Jon grinned, recognizing the stiffness of his wife's spine as slight jealously that he knew he better diffuse before he found himself sleeping in the nursery.

"You're prettier, though . . ." Gabrielle smiled at his words and bit her bottom lip.

"Jon, no I'm not . . . she's younger than me, yet to bare a child, although if Robb and her are to be agreed with, she soon will . . ." Jon forced back his grin from becoming larger.

"Don't be modest, now Gabrielle . . . yes you are. Hell, I'm your husband; I'm supposed to think that!" Gabrielle continued to smile as she picked up the nearby towel and gently toweled herself off.

"What do you think of the book?" Jon scoffed and rolled his eyes as he tossed the book aside.

"Fuck the book for a moment. You're prettier." Gabrielle smiled in amusement as she turned around to gaze at him. He looked huge black panther laying there, taking up half the four-poster canopied bed and the whole length, and she knew their sons would be as big as their father was. For that, she was glad, for it was not good when sons were scrawny little runts while their fathers were big men.

Jon's hands were laced together on his stomach, and he was wearing his typical white Renaissance shirt, black riding breeches and black knee-high boots. He was like a powerful black panther, gazing at her like she was a delicious meal ready to be devoured. Gabrielle grinned, loving the way he gazed at her.

_Like a tawny golden lion, Jaime threw back his head and laughed at Gabrielle's words, his golden locks alight in the firelight and his honey brown eyes twinkling gently in the light as well . . . they twinkled lovingly as his hands moved to encircle her waist, bringing her closer to him . . ._

Gabrielle pressed a hand to her head for a moment and shook her head to rid herself of Jaime's pestering memories, and grinned as she gazed at Jon. She doubted she would ever be fully rid of the Kingslayer.

"You must be delusional, my Lord Snow . . ." She spoke teasingly, and Jon smiled, making Gabrielle want to melt into a warm puddle at the sight of that smile. It was that teasing, sexy smile that revealed the two dimples located on each cheek and in which lighted his eyes up in an enticingly dangerous flicker. It was his lovemaking smile, and Gabrielle knew exactly what it eventually entailed.

"Well then, I hope to the Gods that these delusions don't end!" He answered her, and Gabrielle smiled as Jon sat up, bent his leg at the knee and placed his foot on the bed. He held out a hand to her, his other arm propped on his knee. "Come here, my beautiful apparition . . . before you disappear . . ." He commanded her quietly, and Gabrielle smiled and bowed her head.

"As you wish, my Lord . . ." She then crossed the room to him and the bed, where she crawled onto the giant, four-poster bed. Jon reclined back until he was laying on the bed again, his beautiful and enticing wife snaking her way up his body until she was propped on her hands up over him. She let out an already defeated sigh.

"I suppose you won't beg . . ." Jon smiled lasciviously.

"Of course I'm not going to beg! What kind of Lord begs?" He asked her and Gabrielle grinned as she leaned down to whisper in his ear,

"The kind of Lord that his wife is about to get very kinky . . ." He grinned as he gazed up at her.

"Ooo . . . I kind of like the sound of that . . ."

As soon as those words left his mouth, her view of the world was suddenly topsy-turvy, and she realized that it was she that was now lying on her back on the bed and Jon was above her. Gabrielle couldn't see his face; however, she knew he probably wore that huge grin of his. He was getting his way like he always did.

"Now . . . what were you saying about someone becoming very kinky . . .?" He murmured in her ear, and Gabrielle grinned.

"I take it the roles have been temporarily switched now?" She asked and Jon grinned.

"Oh darling, you have no idea!"

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><p><em>Gwyneth Thorneblood's POV . . .<em>

"I'm so glad you could meet me for tea, Gwyn, dear . . . it's not that often that a son takes a wife so enchanting as yourself. . ." Catelyn Stark spoke as she took a sip of her tea. Gwyneth smiled tightly as she too took a sip of the lukewarm tea. It was supposed to be jasmine, but poorly brewed. Like everything nowadays, Catelyn found herself cast aside for the beautiful Whylla and her bastard boy. Whylla got the nicest rooms, the nicest teas . . . the nicest everything.

"How do you like shadowing the Lady Gabrielle as of late?" Catelyn asked her, and Gwyneth shrugged.

"I suppose . . . she is nice to me, good to me, but . . . aloof, nonetheless." She confessed, and Catelyn gazed at her sympathetically.

"Oh, you are such a poor dear! If I had my way, I would have pleaded with Ned to have you shadow my Sansa . . . oh, how you would love my darling Sansa! But no . . . when your husband lies down with a whore, you must make some changes to accommodate her and her bastard son's family." Catelyn spoke, somewhat bitterly as she took another sip of her tea. She did not finish, however:

"Of course, we all must make accommodations! The Lady Gabrielle is beloved of the Queen Cersei, Jon of Robert. If that bastard's daughter, Lark, had been born earlier, I have no doubt there would have been a marriage proposal set between Prince Tommen and her!" Catelyn shook her head. "We can only thank the Seven for that one good favor, now can we?"

The tight smile was still upon Gwyneth's face as she gently returned the cup to its saucer and then to the table sitting between them. "I take it . . . you do not like the Lady Gabrielle?" She asked, and Catelyn shook her head as she returned her cup to the table as well.

"It is not that I do not like the Lady Gabrielle, Gwyn . . . It is just I think she could have done a lot better in life. If she would have waited in marrying Jon, she surely would have been pleaded to come to court, where a suitable marriage could be made for her. Maybe she would have been approached with a marriage to a Martell or even my own brother! But no . . . by marrying a bastard, she has lain herself down with the son of a whore . . . she must reap what she has sown now."

"But surely their marriage has benefitted them, both! You just said yourself that they are beloved of the King and Queen! And what about Ned, my Lady? The Lord of Winterfell seems to be very taken with the Snows." Catelyn's face drained of color at the mention of her husband's affiliation with his bastard son and his family.

"His fondness for the Snows comes directly from his liaisons with the Lady Whylla; do not doubt it! Take that whore out of the equation, and the Snows are just another bastard-born family, not even fit to clean you and Robb's boots!" She told Gwyneth sternly. Gwyneth was wise to stay silent, and Catelyn shook her head in sudden weariness. "Whylla Martell has been the bane of my existence since she first came here! If only I could get that damn woman out of here! I would once again rule this castle beside my husband instead of being sent away a spurned wife!"

Gwyneth opened her mouth to finally speak, but Catelyn interrupted the young girl by leaning forward and placing a gentle hand on her daughter-in-law's forearm. "I have heard rumors of the most . . . _unsavory _kind, my dear!" She told her in a death-like whisper, one that Gwyneth had to lean forward slightly in order to hear. "I have heard that Ned has secretly married Whylla under the Godswood tree . . . that she is with child again and that if the child is born a boy, he will put me aside for her, and that he has had the permission of the King Robert for many a moon now! Jon would be declared legitimate, my children, bastards! Robb, Sansa, Arya, Bran – even little Rickon – would no longer be allowed to keep the Stark name and instead, would be forced to adopt the surname 'Snow'!" Catelyn fell back in her chair, her eyes closed in what looked akin to agony. "You have no idea how much I dread that, Gwyn! The only decent marriage I would be able to make for them would be fellow bastards and you . . ." She shook her head mournfully "You and Robb's children would be known as the children of a bastard!"

Gwyneth was speechless. She saw nothing but paranoia and madness within the Lady of Winterfell's eyes, the same emotions that were fabled to be in Lysa Arryn's eyes as well. Her 'rumors', probably held absolutely no truth to them as well. Bigamy, whilst not exactly outlawed in Westeros, was certainly looked down upon. A man of such notable reputation as Eddard Stark would not be nearly as stupid as Catelyn to suggest he would have taken another wife!

Gwyneth shook her head. "My Lady, Lord Stark is a good, kind, _gracious _man; he would never do that your family!" Catelyn shook her head stubbornly.

"You have not seen him with the Snows, Gwyn, so do not insist to tell me what you assume to be the truth!" Catelyn advised her tersely. "That whore has my husband wrapped around her finger like thread and every time he is around those children, it is like his very world stops! Gabrielle enchants him with her wit and her charm, Whylla makes him love and worship her with her cunt and beauty and her laughing smiles! Jon . . ." Catelyn shook her head mournfully again. "Every time my husband is around that bastard boy of his, I feel Robb's grip on the throne of Winterfell slipping . . . slipping . . . slipping through my grasp to fall into the lap of that scheming whore and her vindictive bastard!" Catelyn hugged herself and visibly shivered. Her eyes turned onto Gwyneth's.

"Promise me Gwyn, that you will not fall into their webs," She pleaded with her. "In order for Robb to succeed in getting the throne, he needs all the support he can get . . . and not from the Snows!"

Gwyneth didn't know what to say. She liked Gabrielle, she really did but then again . . . Robb was her husband, the father of her child . . . Catelyn his mother. And if what Catelyn said was true, and Whylla was already scheming to get Jon and Gabrielle on the throne after the death of Ned, then Robb – as the smaller faction at the Court of Winterfell - really did need all the help he could get.

Gwyneth continued to smile tightly as she nodded. "Yes . . . yes of course I promise." She spoke, and Catelyn beamed as she reached across the table and took her daughter-in-law's hands.

"Oh, I knew you would see the truth hidden amongst the murk and lies!" Catelyn spoke passionately. "Robb is a very lucky man to have married you!"

Gwyneth inclined her head in thanks, feeling heaviness in her heart all the same. Did she just agree to truly keep her husband on the right path, safe and sound . . . or agree to become Catelyn's pawn in this Game of Thrones?

* * *

><p><em>Jaime Lannister's POV . . .<em>

"How about this one, Jaime . . .?"

Jaime Lannister, who had been deep in thought when Cersei's voice broke through his thoughts, looked up to see her twirl around on the spot, the skirts of her burgundy dress slashed with clothe of gold and Volantene lace billowing around her. Her golden hair flew around her face as well, a sight that normally would have had Jaime breathless, but no longer held the same effect on him.

He also could not help but think about how that magnificent burgundy dress slashed with clothe of gold and Volantene lace would look infinitely better on Gabrielle.

He smiled a small smile and nodded. "It looks gorgeous, love." He told her, and Cersei immediately stopped spinning, a look of suspicion appearing on her beautiful face. Jaime rolled his eyes, mentally preparing for the lambasting he was sure to get any second now.

"You do not have to lie to me, Jaime!" Cersei spoke harshly as she moved over to her bed, tearing off the dress as she went. They fell in strips to the floor and two of her ladies stooped down to pick them up as another helped the Queen don a robe of magnificent gold color. If Jaime was to be honest, the gold kind of clashed with her hair, but he wasn't stupid enough to say that.

Jaime shook his head, not bothering to keep back the lie that bubbled forth on his tongue. He found now, that since he had loved and desired Gabrielle that Cersei's beauty paled in comparison. Everything he saw would have looked infinitely better on the Dothraki beauty and every other personality was that of a slug's compared to the Lady Snow's.

"I'm not lying, Cersei!" He told his sister as she turned around and sat down on the edge of the bed. She gazed at him, that same look of suspicion still on her face.

"You were never a good liar, Jaime," She told him. "I know when you're lying to me."

Jaime sighed, searching desperately for an excuse. Finally he found one, although it was meager at best.

"It is just . . ." He sighed and smiled apologetically. "I liked the emerald gown a lot more, that's all" He told her, and it was as if all of Cersei's anger and suspicions evaporated. A sympathetic smiled appeared on her face as she stood and crossed the room to her brother, where she smoothed her hands over his cheeks.

"Oh, my poor, loving man!" She cooed. "Why did you not tell me that earlier? Now I have gotten mad at you for nothing!" Jaime smiled a small, weak smile as Cersei stood on her tip-toes to plant a kiss on his lips. He didn't respond to it like he normally would . . . not until he imagined the ruby-red lips of Gabrielle pressed to his, the feel of her voluptuous body pressing against his, replacing the thinner one of Cersei's . . . the dark abundance of her black Dothraki mane in his hands . . .

He must have gotten a little harder and rough than Cersei was used to, for she wrenched herself away from him, breathing hard and her eyes showing a hint of shock and slight fear. Jaime slammed back down into reality, his eyes focusing back on the woman before him, slowly registering that she was the exact opposite of the woman he had just been thinking of. Gabrielle did well with roughness. The angrier you were, the more she wanted you. Cersei was the exact opposite. Gentleness and kindness were her fortes and Jaime found himself admitting that he would cut off his right arm for one more passionate fuck against the wall with Gabrielle, opposed to a session of peaceful, bedroom lovemaking with his sister.

"What is wrong with you?" Cersei demanded, and Jaime looked down at the marble floor, his hand moving to smooth over his forehead.

"I'm sorry, Cersei . . . I have a lot on my mind." He told her and Cersei nodded stiffly as she crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"I can tell. Tell me, did that peasant whore take your mind as well as your -"

"Cersei . . . Cersei, where are you woman?"

Both Lannister's froze at the sound of Robert Baratheon's booming voice come from her living quarters. Jaime saw an immediate mask of lovingness appear on Cersei's face that would have made a mummer jealous. When she spoke, her voice was akin to that of tinkling bells and her eyes were kind and loving.

"I'm in here, darling!" She called, and Jaime stood there as his King moved into the room. He gave Jaime hardly a passing glance before he addressed his wife.

"We're leaving for Winterfell in two days," He told her, and Cersei's face paled a little, although her mask did not falter.

"For what reason are we going to Winterfell, darling?" She asked him, and Robert waved his hand through the air.

"Don't worry your pretty little head over it, Cersei; just do as I say!" He told her, and Cersei stood there for a moment before she slowly curtsied to him.

"Your wish is my command, darling . . ." She spoke and Robert grunted in response.

"It better be. I expect you and Joff in court any minute. There are protocols that are going to be brought up that I would like him to see. Do you understand?" Cersei nodded, her eyes still averted to the tiled floor, and Robert nodded again in satisfaction as he turned to the door. He nodded a goodbye to Jaime, who bowed one back as the King left the rooms.

Cersei waited a few moments to make sure her husband was out of her rooms before she unleashed the dragon. She ranted and screamed and all but tore her hair out until her ladies could get to her. She had no wish to return to that damnable North, but all Jaime could think about was that he would finally be able to see Gabrielle again.


	26. Chapter 25

**Okay, there's a lot going on in this chapter, I know, which probably accounts for its length. Seems like I've been stuck on long chapters lately :)**

**Aside from the great tragedy that occurrs at the end, this is also the chapter where Jaime reappears back into Gabrielle's life and I daresay Dark Alana knows what this chapter is about. After all, the shoutout goes to her for helping me come up with this idea. Thanks girl, you really helped me out, uv ya bunches :)**

**Okay, so enjoy the chapter - you might need tissues - and review me with your tears, comments, cusswords, I don't care :)**

**- Nagiana**

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><p><em>Gabrielle Snow's POV . . .<em>

When Gabrielle first heard the news that Jaime Lannister was returning to Winterfell with the King and Queen's court, she had wanted to faint.

She had wanted to do many things.

Much of her time before the procession could actually be seen rumbling down the road, was spent praying in front of the Godswood. She prayed for strength against Jaime Lannister's charming grin and heated touches. She prayed for guidance in these trying times, but most of all, for the health of her children, Nate, Lark and Ned.

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><p><em>Jaime Lannister's POV . . .<em>

She had been in the Godswood with her children the day that Jaime and the courtly procession reached Winterfell. He had found her there, as he knew she would be there.

He entered the Godswood, the gate swinging smoothly open, not a creak in sight. He was glad the dratted direwolf was not with, but stood there for a moment watching the two twins running around the manicured wood, laughing and chasing each other. The boy (Nathaniel, was it?) had a wooden sword strapped to his hip that dragged the ground when he ran and bounced against his leg as well.

He gently closed the gate behind him and coughed. The cough was barely noticeable, but Gabrielle and the children noticed nonetheless, and turned around. Gabrielle's face paled when she saw him; not exactly the reaction he wanted.

He did not immediately greet Gabrielle, however. He grinned and moved over to the children, where he bent down in front of them. Lark hid behind Nate peeking out at him from behind her brother. The boy gazed at him suspiciously, almost as if Jaime was a rabid dog ready to bite at the least provocation. Jaime did neither, however. He merely gestured to the wooden sword strapped to the young boy's hips.

"That's a nice sword you have there . . . do you train with it?" Nate nodded, his hand moving to slowly rest on its hilt, the way he had seen his father, grandfather and Ser Jory do.

"It's not that nice . . . it's only wooden." He spoke, and Jaime nodded.

"I daresay you'll have a nicer sword when you're older, right?" He asked, and Nate nodded again.

"Yes, I will. My grandfather already promised me that I would inherit his sword from my father when they died. Its name is Ice. Its Valyrian made." Jaime nodded again, more impressed this time. So Ned Stark had promised the son of his own bastard that he would inherit the sword of Winterfell, even over his own legitimate son. He glanced at Gabrielle at Nate's words, in order to garner her own reaction, but the beautiful Dothraki woman only sat there gazing at them, her face expressionless. He didn't know what he had expected. If her husband's family was indeed scheming to snatch the throne out from underneath her half-brother-in-law, she certainly wouldn't tell him.

"I've seen that sword. It's very nicely made. Mine . . . mine is simply steel." He told him, patting the hilt of his own sword strapped to his hip and Nate nodded.

"May . . . May I see it -?"

"_Nate_!"

Jaime's eyes danced back to Gabrielle. Her words had cut through her son's like butter, effectively silencing her son, who looked bashfully down at the ground. Gabrielle smiled tightly and swallowed heavily. "I mean . . . it's getting late. Father and grandfather are probably wondering where we are . . ." She said, and for the first time, Jaime noticed the slightly struggling bundle in her arms.

It was a baby.

Without being overtly obvious, Jaime craned his neck slightly in order to see if the child had golden hair . . . golden hair like Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen. But no, the baby had the black hair of Jon Snow and Gabrielle. He felt himself become slightly crestfallen. It was too much to ask for . . . for the baby to be his.

Gabrielle stood and immediately, Maharet seemed to appear as if from the wall work. She took the two children by the hand and led them from the Godswood, shooting a look at Gabrielle as they left. Gabrielle nodded and turned back to Jaime, bouncing Ned gently in her arms.

Jaime waited until the gate swung shut behind Maharet and the children, before he spoke.

"How are you doing?" Gabrielle shrugged slightly at his words.

"Good, I suppose. Have you met Gwyneth yet?"

"Is she Robb's new paramour?"

"She's more than his paramour, Jaime . . . she's his wife?"

A look of surprise appeared on Jaime's face. "That young thing is the newest Lady Stark?" Gabrielle nodded and Jaime laughed and shook his head. "Lucky bastard, I suppose. She's comely enough."

"She's 'comely enough'?"

"I meant that because . . . you're prettier." He told her quietly, and a shiver went down Gabrielle's spine at his words.

"Still as impertinent as ever, I see . . ." She spoke, a tad teasingly, and he smiled as he stepped closer in order to gaze down at the baby. She didn't stop him, and immediately, he realized that one would be an utter fool to think his baby anything but the son of Jon Snow. Even as a baby, he looked the spitting image of the bastard, even more-so than Nathaniel did, although if you asked Jaime, the twins had inherited more of their mother's Dothraki looks.

"He's beautiful . . ." Jaime spoke quietly, and Gabrielle smiled as she stepped away a little.

"Thank you . . . we get that a lot."

"What is his name?"

"Ned. He's named after his grandfather . . . Eddard Snow."

"From what I'm hearing, it might be Eddard Stark soon."

"There is no truth to those rumors -"

"Is there?" He inquired, an eyebrow rising in amusement. "There is always a little truth to every rumor, Gabrielle love. I just think there's more truth in this one than any other. It would make sense for the mother of a bastard who was despised growing up, that she would wish her son to inherit everything. She might seem to have good intentions, but I would not be surprised if Whylla Martell had an ulterior motive. She was, after all, a whore -" Gabrielle's eyes snapped on Jaime's fury alighting their brown depths.

"You know nothing of Whylla!" She snapped at him. "She is a wonderful woman who has done nothing but good for us! Ned loves her and trusts her – _Jon _loves her and trusts her! Why shouldn't I?"

Jaime chuckled as he looked down at his feet for a moment. He turned his eyes back onto Gabrielle. "I know more about Whylla Martell than most. I certainly know more about her than Ned or your husband does." He told her and Gabrielle gazed at him for a moment, her eyes searching his face for any signs of lying. She didn't find any and weren't surprised. Jaime had ever lied with her . . . not once.

She shook her head. "How do I know you're not lying Jaime?" She inquired, and Jaime shrugged.

"You don't, love."

Gabrielle gazed at him for another moment. "Tell me about her . . . I want to know everything. I want to know anything and everything about my husband's mother . . . everything in order to protect him." Jaime tsked and shook his head.

"What do I get in exchange?"

Gabrielle gave him a look of disgust and let out a disgusted sound as she turned away. "Do not mistake me for someone who would sell herself!" She snapped and moved to walk away, but Jaime gently grabbed her upper arm.

"I was teasing," He told her quietly. "I would never, ever say that about you. I have grown to love you greatly over this last year and a half, even though we said no emotions would get involved. Hell, I hardly had a life back in King's Landing! I could not stop thinking about you!"

He could tell her words kept her from walking even closer to the gate, and she slowly turned around. "I told you to leave me alone." She told him, her voice shaky, and Jaime shook his head.

"Do you honestly expect me to abide by those words?" He asked. "I've never been one to fallow rules, nor by the pretty face of a woman, but by the Seven, Gabrielle . . . did you have me at hello!" He saw Gabrielle swallow heavily.

"I just . . . I want to know about Whylla. Despite everything, you are right . . . there is something off about her. I want to protect my family, and even though I know I shouldn't, I trust you, Jaime. Please, tell me everything!" She begged him, and Jaime stood there for a moment, thinking.

"Meet me alone this afternoon in the broken tower. We'll have peace there, which is what we need. What I have to say should not be said within hearing distance of anyone else . . . especially anyone who is close to the woman." Gabrielle nodded and moved to go, but then paused. Then, as if the motion would shock her, she stood on her tip-toes, placed a hand on his chest and then planted a light, almost loving kiss on Jaime's handsomely chiseled cheek.

"Thanks Jaime . . ." She trailed off, acting as if she wanted to say something else, but then thought better of it and moved off in the direction of the gate, hunching over Ned in order to shield him from the cold.

Even though the wind was biting cold, Jaime was warm.

* * *

><p><em>Bran Stark's POV . . .<em>

Bran Stark loved to climb.

It was his greatest love really. High above the world, on top of the roofs of Winterfell, Bran felt like he was weightless, almost as if he was flying. Birds would twitter past him, so close sometimes that their dainty wings would brush his cheek, feather light kisses that would make him smile and grin.

However, today, Bran didn't know what he wanted to climb. He had climbed the library tower many times, as well as the other buildings in Winterfell, always out of sight of the guards and his family, but always within sight of Summer. The direwolf would lope along on the ground beside them, panting and whining when he would lose sight of the boy. He hated it when Bran climbed. He couldn't protect him when separated by feet and feet of solid brick and rock walls.

After a moment of contemplation on top of the library tower on what he wanted to climb next, he spied it across the courtyard. There was a crumbling tower not far off that was a very fun thing to climb. Footholds were hard to come by, and many times a gargoyle was the only solid thing keeping you from plummeting to a very nasty death.

Bran grinned and leaned over, where he whistled down to the direwolf panting underneath him, spread out on the cobblestoned pathway. He immediately leapt to his feet and barked, telling Bran that he would be on his heels, no matter where he went.

Bran immediately began making his way to the crumbling tower across the way, climbing up and down walls and vines, finding footholds in crumbling rock and smooth stones where just a lip was peeking over the edge. Twice he slipped and fell, but grabbed another foothold at the last split second.

When he finally reached the crumbling tower, he paused and took a breath, feeling proud of himself. That was a tough undertaking and he had made it, despite almost falling twice. He glanced down to make sure Summer was still fallowing and after seeing that he was, Bran began the long climb up the tower to the open window at the top.

With the heavy use of the gargoyles, Bran made a quick climb to the top, but paused every now and then when he thought he heard the sounds of voices. After pausing for a moment and chalking it up to the wind whistling past him, he continued on his way.

He continued climbing but it steadily became clear to him that the voices were not the wind and was indeed, voices. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion as he scrambled onto a gargoyle and sat there for a moment. The tower was crumbling badly in places, making the ascent to the top room a very hard trek. Who could possibly be in the tower at this time of day?

After allowing his curiosity to get the better of him and realizing that he just _had _to see who was up in the tower, Bran scrambled from gargoyle to gargoyle, growing closer and closer to the open window and the voices as he went. It was a male and female, he deciphered, and they appeared to be arguing.

After almost losing grip on the last gargoyle, he was finally close enough to the window to make out fully their voices. Instead of arguing now, the sounds of muffled moans could be heard, causing Bran to furrow his eyebrows in confusion again.

_I have got to get closer . . . _Bran thought and inched his head around the corner of the windowsill, gasping upon what he saw.

The man and woman was locked in a fevered embrace against the wall, one golden haired as the sun and the other with hair as black as night. Bran didn't know who they were but when the man shifted his lips down to latch onto her neck, bringing the woman's face into view, Bran let out a clearly audible gasp that had the woman screaming as soon as she set eyes onto Bran.

Gabrielle was in the fevered embrace of Jaime Lannister!

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><p><em>Gabrielle Snow's POV . . .<em>

Gabrielle knew she shouldn't be meeting Jaime alone in the crumbling tower, but really, she didn't have a choice. If Jaime had information on Whylla, then Gabrielle needed to know. Jon deserved the truth and if getting it required she go through the one man she never wanted to see again, then so be it.

"You promised you would tell me if I came here." She reminded him testily, and Jaime nodded as she pushed himself off of the stone wall he was leaning against, and moved over to her.

"I did, didn't I?" He asked. "What do you want to know?"

"I told you that. I want to know everything." Jaime chuckled.

"That's a lot, Gabrielle . . . just to let you know." Gabrielle looked down.

"Start with the basics. Is she really Jon's mother?"

"Oh, she's Jon's mother. There's no mistaking that. If she wasn't, then explain how Ned is so smitten with her." Gabrielle nodded, wanting to kick herself. Of course she was really Jon's mother, how could she have asked such a stupid question?

Jaime moved over to her, where he gently smoothed a hand over her cheek. Gabrielle swatted his hand away. "Get away from me!" She snapped and a look of slight hurt appeared on Jaime's face. It was a look of genuine hurt, not the playful hurt he had used on her before.

"Do you hate me this much?" He asked her quietly, and Gabrielle looked down at the floor, a slight pang of guilt shooting through her body at his words. Did she really hate him? Or did her feelings put her in denial? "Do you so much that my touch repulses you?" He added, and Gabrielle shook her head.

"You don't repulse me, Jaime. It's just . . . I'm married!"

It was a futile excuse and she knew it. It echoed in Jaime's eyes and this time, when he smoothed his hand over her cheek, she didn't move away or snap at him. "That didn't stop you before . . ." He told her, still quietly, and Gabrielle swallowed heavily.

"It should stop me now . . ." She replied, and his eyebrows furrowed slightly in confusion.

"Is it?" Gabrielle shook her head as she stepped closer to him, her hands moving to frame his face, to pull him down to her, their lips moving together in an intimate dance that seemed only Jaime and she had possessed.

They kissed for a moment, their tongues entwining and finally, Jaime sated his need to bury his hands in the rich abundance of her midnight colored locks. He pulled her closer to him, pulling her tighter against him, and they broke apart moments later, Gabrielle's eyes connecting with his, to drown in his blue depths.

"I missed you . . ." She murmured and Jaime nodded.

"I missed you so much, I ached . . ." He replied, and Gabrielle grinned again as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and kissed him again, reveling in the feeling of him undoing the cords of her dress behind her, of the warmth of his hands when he finished that chore and instead, pulled her to him even more.

They broke apart then, Gabrielle holding him close. He did, reveling in just being with her. "Jaime . . . I . . . I want to take me . . ." She murmured, blush furiously tingeing her cheeks and Jaime grinned and nodded.

Their lips connected, her hands pushed him to pin him with love, to mount him against the wall.

Even now, as he impaled her with slow heavy thrusts that sank deep into her body until she didn't know where she ended and where he began, making spears of pleasure dart up throughout her body, she couldn't chase the thought that maybe . . . maybe Jaime did care for her after all. It was silly of her, of course; Jaime at first had seemed to only care about his gains and his goals, but . . . this seemed differently. Jaime surely had better things to do, places to be, and yet . . . here they were. Here they were sweating and panting and grasping with their hands what they could not with their hearts. Gabrielle splayed her hands out on his chest as she threw her head back against the wall in ecstasy, wishing that time would stop . . .

Until her eyes fell onto the window and she saw who was watching them.

She wanted to scream. She thought she did scream.

She felt her entire life flash before her eyes as Jaime quickly withdrew from her and after quickly righting himself, crossed the room to the window in two long strides. He grabbed the shirt of the culprit before Bran could escape, and brought him fully into view as Gabrielle slid down the stone wall, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"What are you doing here?" Jaime demanded, and Bran stuttered a response, his eyes glued onto Gabrielle.

"I-I-I was climbing . . ."

Jaime glanced at Gabrielle. "Do you know him?"

Gabrielle nodded. "He's-He's Bran . . . Jon's little half-brother. Jaime, I don't . . ." She trailed off, holding back a sob, and Jaime sighed and shook his head.

"The things I do for love . . ."

Gabrielle remembered screaming for her very life as Jaime pushed Bran out the window. She remembered getting up and shoving him aside in her mad haste to window, to the slight, split-second chance that she could maybe catch him before he hit the ground.

The only thing she saw, however, was the broken body of Bran underneath the window, his eyes closed and his direwolf whining and nudging at his master as a pool of blood slowly spread underneath the little boy's body.

Gabrielle remembered the tears that spread down her cheeks at the sight . . . at the flashes of her now ruined life flashing before her eyes . . . and all for one useless fuck.


	27. Chapter 26

**Okay, first off, I am a million times sorry for not updating in a million years! The new semester has started this week and I've been busy getting all my ducks in a row before my classes really start getting heavy. Hopefully, it won't happen that much anymore since I'm starting to feel like I'm on a roll here with this story now that I have it back on track, but if it does, I apologize in advance.**

**Secondly, this chapter was AMAZINGLY difficult to write LOL. It was hard to write, mainly because I didn't know WHAT to write, and unlike my other chapters, I did not get on a roll as I started writing it, which probably accounts for its shortness. I can officially say that this chapter was Hell to write :). I think you'll like it though, especially the rather explosive cliffhanger at the end ;)**

**Lastly, but certianly not least, I have heard the most fantabulous news! For all you gamers out there, they are coming out with a Game of Thrones RPG this April, and I don't know about you, but if you can create your own characters and romances (which I am hoping they are doing, cause you can't twiddle a stick in gaming anymore without hitting a RPG romance), needless to say . . . Gabrielle's gonna take one more step towards being real :)**

**Anyway, sorry for the lengthy author's note, hope you enjoy!**

**- Nagiana**

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><p><em>Gabrielle Snow's POV . . .<em>

Even after two weeks, he had yet to awaken.

He lay there, almost as cold and lifeless as one of the fabled Others, his body pale, sickly and reed thin and his breathing labored. It was almost enough seeing the little boy falling through the air to a sickening crunch at the bottom of the high tower, but to see him lying in his bed like that . . . not knowing if he would ever awaken . . . Gabrielle could barely take seeing that.

She would envision one of her own children in his place . . . Lark, Nate, maybe even little Ned . . . the children that Jon and Ned adored with every fiber of their being . . .

Gabrielle had done a lot of crying lately. Buckets full, she wagered, although Jon and Ned alongside the rest of the family and court, chalked it up to her being in mourning for the small boy. She could see in Catelyn's eyes that she clearly had other ideas about what happened, and that Jon and Gabrielle were the hated centerpieces.

"I know she is plotting something, Maharet . . ." Gabrielle quietly confided in Maharet one fine morning as they walking in the gardens, Lark and Nate running ahead of them, laughing and playing in the bright sunlight with a couple of other noble-born children. Her midwife and Handmaiden was the only one who knew the truth of Bran Stark's fall, and like her mistress, she knew with absolute certainty, that Catelyn Stark was using her suspicions to formulate a plan to get rid of Jon and his family.

Maharet shook her head, her graying red hair shining brightly in the sun. "I cannot help but embrace your worries like they were kin, my Lady," She agreed. "Although, her suspicions will most likely be unfounded in Lord Stark's eyes. There are only four people in Westeros who know the truth, and that is me, you, Jaime and Bran. If Bran never wakes up, he will never be able to tell the truth, and if he does, most likely the fall would have been enough to erase his memory. I assume you will most likely take the truth to your grave, and you know damn good and well that I will do the same. The only one, who would dare tell the truth, would be the Kingslayer. And with the way you've been avoiding him of late, I have no doubt that if pushed hard enough or supplied with the right amount of wine, his tongue will surely wag . . ." She spoke before trailing off, and Gabrielle sighed and nodded in agreement.

It was true . . . she had been avoiding Jaime like he was a carrier of the plague. She could clearly tell he needed to talk by the sorrow and agony in his eyes, and by the way he trembled when he reached out to her, but in pain and in fear, Gabrielle pushed him away in favor of the strong, protective arms of Jon. Jon didn't know the truth . . . the horrible, ugly truth that she sheltered in her wounded, bleeding heart, and even if he did, he would had been angry, yes, but his love would have shone through and he would have kept her secret. She hoped that would happen, but then again, she wasn't sure and wasn't going to risk it . . . not with something this big.

Gabrielle looked away and nodded. "I know . . . it is my worst nightmare, Maharet. If this secret gets out, or even remotely falls into the wrong hands, than not only am I done, but my family is done as well! Everything Jon has worked, bled and cried for will be undone . . . our children will be loathed and abhorred as the spawn of a murderess and an adulteress, something that Ned will surely turn his nose down at . . . even with Whylla his favorite."

"I doubt things will be that bad, my Lady," Maharet assured her. "We just have to make sure that the Kingslayer does not consume an overt amount of mind-numbing ale and then go blabbing to the she-hag . . ." She spoke and they walked for a moment in silence before the two of them collapsed into a fit of giggles when Gabrielle realized that 'she-hag' was their new nickname for Catelyn.

* * *

><p><em>Catelyn Stark and Gwyneth Stark's POV . . .<em>

Her son . . . oh her poor son! He looked so frail and helpless lying there amidst bear and wolf pelts that dwarfed the paralyzed boy underneath them. She felt tears come to her eyes as she took her sons small hand in hers and pressed her lips to the cold, clammy skin. Oh the Seven, why couldn't it be one of that whore's children with that bastard!

She would have given her right arm for that dratted Nate to be in Bran's place . . . although something told her that Ned would have been even more distraught at the sight of Nate lying motionless and unconscious under those furs, than he had been at seeing his own son.

There was a curt knock on the door and Catelyn hastily wiped away her tears before sitting up straighter in the chair placed by the bed that she had immediately claimed at her own. She gave the permission for the person on the other to enter and when the door opened, the svelte figure of Gwyneth slowly moved inside the room, where she closed the door behind her. Catelyn felt more tears come to her eyes at the sight of her son's wife.

"Oh Gwyneth, my dear, thank the Seven you have come!" Lady Stark began, a sob erupting forth from her throat. "It's so horrible, is it not?" Gwyneth nodded in agreement as she slowly approached the bed and gazed upon the limp figure of Bran. He had been such a sweet, gentle boy . . . she wondered if he would ever fully recover from this? Catelyn continued blithely on, like she had a habit of doing with Gwyneth.

"Why is it my little boy lying there, Gwyneth? Why is not that dratted 'Nate' or Lark here in his place?" She asked, and Gwyneth recoiled slightly at words spoken in a time of pain and rash decision. Gwyneth might not all-together like Gabrielle, but she would _never _wish another woman's child to the same pain and agony that Bran was no doubt feeling right now. She had thought Catelyn would do the same, but apparently, with those words, she had been wrong.

Feeling an awkwardness descend between them, Gwyneth opened her mouth to speak, but another knock on the door interrupted her. Catelyn cleared her tears again and bid them to enter. The door opened more slowly than it had when Gwyneth had entered, and the woman that stepped into the room, had been the last person Catelyn wanted to see.

Gabrielle blushed scarlet at seeing the room already occupied by the two women she hated the most, and ducked to leave. "I-I'm sorry! I had no idea that he had visitors!" She spoke, and even thought Catelyn opened her mouth to say something she knew was going to be venomous, Gwyneth smile the first warm smile she had ever smiled at Gabrielle, and gestured to join them, which earned a look of extreme shock from Catelyn.

"No, no, it's fine, Gabrielle! Come in, come in!"

She ushered Gabrielle inside, and if Gwyneth thought that the awkward silence that descended upon her and Catelyn was bad, the awkwardness now descending upon them was even worse. Gabrielle tried to diffuse it by smiling apologetically and moving over to Bran's other bedside, where she placed a gentle hand on his sweat-soaked, hot forehead. She gazed down at him, feeling tears swimming in her eyes, a fact that neither Catelyn nor Gwyneth failed to notice.

"I'm . . . so sorry, Catelyn . . . Bran was a sweet boy . . . he didn't deserve what happened to him." She spoke, and the look that Catelyn gave her could have melted the strongest ice.

"I thank you for your condolences, Gabrielle. They are very heartwarming." She spoke. "But I have often wondered how this could have happened to him."

Catelyn did not fail to notice the slight flicker of regret and fear that speared through her eyes for a split second before it was replaced with the look of sorrow that everyone adopted when they saw Bran now, at Catelyn's dangerously laced words. Gwyneth shook her head, oblivious to the fact that Gabrielle wanted to run from the room with the speed of a deer, and how Catelyn would most likely give chase like a lioness spotting her prey.

"We all told him not to climb that high . . . it's all our faults, Catelyn." She spoke, and Catelyn shook her head.

"The Seven alone would not force this onto any child . . . it has to be the fault of someone." She spoke, and Gabrielle felt herself momentarily stiffen.

"Maybe, Catelyn, the Seven did do this. Maybe they did this to punish you . . . to punish you for how you have treated me and Jon's family for all this time." She spoke before she could stop herself, but then immediately regretted it when she saw the shocked look on both Gwyneth and Catelyn's faces at her words. Eventually, though, Catelyn's face dissolved into a sneer.

"You dare presume to think you are above reproach? You, an adulteress, dare to say that bastard Jon was the only man you have ever loved in your life?" Her sneer grew deeper and Gwyneth vaguely felt like something momentous was about to happen. "You are nothing more, my dear Lady Snow, than Jaime Lannister's whore!"

Gwyneth's body tensed in preparation for what was about to happen, but not even she was prepared for the event that happened next . . . no one was.

The last thing Gabrielle remembered before she was being dragged, screaming and sobbing down the corridor and locked in her chambers while a furious Jon and Robb argued violently outside and as Maharet tried vainly to calm her down, was Gabrielle's hands pushing her to the ground and then tightening on a blue and dying Catelyn Stark's throat.


	28. Chapter 27

**Yay! The shit-hitting-the-fan-chapter!**

**This one was slightly easier to make and a lot more fun :)**

**Okay, here's the sad part . . . this story is - sadly - starting to come to a close. I plan on writing at "least" five more chapters before I get to the epilogue, and I promise, that everything will be resolved before then, the climax will come and there will be a somewhat happy ending (at least between Gabrielle and Jon, there will be :))**

**Enjoy!**

**- Nagiana**

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><p><em>Robb Stark's POV . . .<em>

"Robb, it was a temporary lapse in judgment! I swear that it will not happen again -!"

"She had a _temporarily lapse in judgment_!" Robb interrupted his brother angrily and in clear disbelief. "My mother came inches to dying today, Jon, don't you realize that! I mean, I know that the troubles of lesser mortals is not that important when your mother holds more power than my own, but still, Jon! What the fuck is father doing to do when he returns from the hunt with the King?" He demanded, and Jon shrugged weakly as he ran his fingers through his hair before he addressed the trembling, still shocked Gwyneth.

"Gwyneth, you were there. What happened?"

Gwyneth jumped at Jon's question, and Robb also turned his eyes onto his wife expectantly. She swallowed heavily and folded her hands in front of her stomach, where Robb's child grew strong. She remembered Catelyn's words, over how Jon was so close to being declared legitimate and in a position to replace Robb in line for the throne of Winterfell, and felt the familiar flare of protectiveness rush up inside her.

"Catelyn . . . Catelyn called Gabrielle a whore -"

"What the Hell? How dare she -!"

"_Jon_!" Robb cut interrupted him shortly with an outstretched hand. "_Please_! Allow Gwyneth to continue!" Jon promptly shut his mouth, but glared at Gwyneth all the while she spoke. Her nervousness grew at the intense gaze of Gabrielle's husband, and she knew that if she lied and was found out, nothing good would come of it.

"I suppose Gabrielle resented being called a whore and jumped to the worst possible retaliation." She finished lamely, not able to fallow through the lie she had prepared, and then quickly averted her eyes to the ground again. Robb sighed and looked down at the rugged floor.

"I cannot fault Gabrielle for defending herself, but that was not a defensive maneuver, Jon! That was a woman bent on murder!"

"There was . . . something else . . ." Gwyneth squeaked out and Robb and Jon turned their eyes back onto the young woman, who was looking more nervous by the minute.

"What was it, Gwyn?" Robb asked, and Gwyneth swallowed heavily.

"Catelyn . . . Catelyn didn't just call her a whore . . . she called her . . . Jaime _Lannister's _whore . . ."

The air that immediately descended upon them was deafening. Robb and Jon were stunned by her words, to the point to where they couldn't speak. Jon got to his feet but found his legs like rubber and promptly collapsed to the floor. Robb immediately jumped to his brother's side, where he helped him slowly to his feet again.

Jon was stunned. He was hurt. He wanted to not believe Gwyneth based on the mere fact that the words had originally come from a madwoman, but something in his heart told him Catelyn spoke the truth. When it came to him or his family, she _always _spoke the truth.

Jon gentle removed his arm from Robb's grasp. "L . . . let me speak to her . . . I need to hear her part of the story . . ." he spoke and although Robb dearly wanted to save him the pain and keep him from entering that room, he knew that Jon would get no rest until he did. His marriage that had been built on a _major _lie was officially in shambles at that moment, and the man desperately wanted to try anything to repair it.

Robb allowed him to go, his heart going out to the man that moved purposefully towards the door but then cowered at the doorknob like a child about to visit the sickbed of his mother.

* * *

><p><em>Jon Snow's POV . . .<em>

When he entered the bedchamber he shared with Gabrielle, the first he noticed was her puffy red eyes and pained features. Maharet smiled a weak smile towards him as she stood by her mistress's side, patting her gently on the back, and Jon's shoulders slumped.

"Leave us."

His words and tone of voice brooked no argument, and Maharet curtsied to them both before she silently left the room, closing the door gently behind her. Jon and Gabrielle stood there for a moment, on opposite sides of the room, on opposite playing fields and on opposite sides of love.

"Why did you do it?" He asked, his voice trying to be strong, but it ended up wavering. Gabrielle shrugged.

"I . . . I don't know, Jon," She spoke. "First thing I knew, I was standing by Bran's bedside and the next -"

"I don't give a rat's ass for fucking Catelyn - I'm talking about your _goddamned affair_!" He roared at her, his tone laced with pain and agony as tears prickling in his eyes and as he grabbed up a nearby vase and launched it at the far wall. It shattered upon impact, the clay pieces flying everywhere. Gabrielle flinched but didn't move. Her eyes were wide, though . . . wide and fearful. "What did I do, Gabrielle, to make you forsake me for that _bastard_!" He asked her, calmer this time, but the ghost of tears were still there, threatening to break through.

"Jon, I . . ." She trailed off, at a loss for words. She wanted to say something to soothe him, to make everything she had ever done, go away, but . . . nothing came. She could not talk her way out of this like she had in the past and at the almost visible sight of her marriage crumbling into mere dust before her, the sobs came again and she put her face in her hands and started sobbing.

Jon shook his head and crouched down, his face in his hands. "I have done everything for you, Gabrielle!" He moaned, pain stabbing him in the heart, the only sounds their mutual crying. "I have been nothing but loyal to you, I have loved no one _but _you! I have given you children; I have given you everything you have ever wanted! What did Jaime have that I didn't?" He asked, and Gabrielle shook her head, a motion that Jon could not see and chalked it up to mere silence and continued on,

"I . . . I thought you loved me."

His weak, child-like words caused Gabrielle to stand and move over to him, where she fell to her knees before him. With gentle hands, she picked up his hands and with tears blurring his features before her eyes, she spoke,

"I have always loved you Jon. You've been the only man I've ever wanted in my life and Jaime was . . . Jaime was a _mistake_! He was a _major _mistake, I realize that now, and I have regretted everything I have done with him! My life has been Hell because of him! I cannot sleep; I cannot eat without thinking of how badly I have betrayed you for a simple, useless fling with Jaime. I am happy with you, Jon . . . I love you, Jon." She spoke, and he swallowed heavily.

"Where do we go from here?" He asked her quietly, and Gabrielle closed her eyes at the forebodingness of his words, finally allowing the tears to fall down her cheeks. The path before them was shrouded in darkness . . . not even the light of the moon was able to reveal to them the right path they should take. For the first time in their marriage, they had reached a mountain . . . a mountain that they weren't sure they could scale.

"I don't know . . . I'm scared. If I lose you, I will understand why, but . . . my heart will break!" She told him, still unable to open her tear-filled eyes and gaze into the accusing depths of his brown eyes. Her mind took her back to the time before their marriage, before their children, before Jaime, before _everything_ . . . how uncomplicated it had been back then . . . how their love had shone brighter than any star in the sky, and Gabrielle vaguely wondered how the Hell that love could have shrunk to the point to where she had dared to cheat on the man that she had grown up knowing that she would marry and love with all her heart.

It frightened her, and she knew it also frightened Jon.

Jon shook his head and cupped her face in his hands. "Gabrielle, look at me," He spoke quietly, and Gabrielle obeyed him, although her heart screamed and begged him to allow her to keep her eyes closed. When she opened them and gazed into his eyes, she did not see any accusatory glares, but ones of pain and dare-she-say, slight forgiveness.

"I love too, Gabrielle . . . more than both of us realize, and right now . . . I don't want to lose you either. I want to fight for our marriage and our love like I have never fought for anything else in my life, but you has _got _to stop deceiving me!" He told her, and Gabrielle immediately broke down into sobs again as she collapsed in his arms, her face moving to bury in his chest. He had somewhat forgiven her, although she knew to receive his full trust again, would take a long time. But she knew she couldn't lie to him anymore, and she knew Jon would help her.

"Oh Jon, I've done the worst possible thing! I'm responsible for Bran's fall!" She sobbed, and Jon immediately furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

"Gabrielle, what are you -"

"I mean, it wasn't _me_, but I was there, Jon! I stood there and watched him throw Bran from the window! I _allowed _it to happen!" She continued to sob, and Jon gently raised her head up, where he gazed into her eyes.

"Who did it, Gabrielle? Who threw Bran from the window?" He asked, and Gabrielle shook her head.

"Jaime. I was there when Jaime threw him from the window, Jon! There was nothing I could do, I swear, it happened all so fast, but if I could, you know I would have done something! I love Bran like he was Nate!" She told him, and Jon nodded.

"I know Gabrielle, I know you love him, but this . . . this is _huge_!" He told her and Gabrielle nodded, about to speak, but the door to their quarters slammed open, and the angry voice of Ned Stark filled the air.

* * *

><p><em>Ned Stark's POV . . .<em>

"What you have done, Gabrielle, is . . . I don't know if I can forgive you. . ." He told her, and Gabrielle nodded, her face expressionless as she and Jon stood before a disappointed Ned Stark warming his hands at the nearby fireplace. Whylla stood a few feet away from him, watching him with an expressionless face. "Catelyn is my wife, Gabrielle! You tried to kill her! I can't see how you can pardon yourself from that!" Gabrielle shook her head.

"I'm not trying to pardon myself for what I did, Ned. I will accept any punishment you deem fit." She spoke quietly, feeling comforted by Jon's arm tightening slightly on her waist, his hand covering hers on his chest. Ned sighed and straightened up from the fire, where he turned around and faced his son and daughter-in-law.

"The punishment you should receive is life imprisonment. It certainly would have been the kindest option you would have been afforded by past Kings of Winterfell," He told her, and Gabrielle swallowed heavily at the prospect, but did not balk. Ned could not help but feel a pang of respect for this strong woman, and one of affection for the woman who he had grown to love after her years of being married to his son. Gabrielle and Jon's marriage and love would come out infinitely stronger after this ordeal; something that Ned wished would happen to his and Catelyn's. He cared for Catelyn, or else he would not be mad and disappointed at what Gabrielle did, but he knew his love would be nothing compared to the love he felt for Whylla. That fact alone pained him.

Ned shook his head. "I have thought long and hard for your punishment, Gabrielle. It is not a difficult punishment, per say, but one that I think will suit the situation well," His eyes flickered onto Gabrielle and Jon and then onto Gwyneth standing beside Robb. "I have recently been appointed the King's Hand, a position I would rather not hold, but one I have been . . . _obliged _to take . . ." He trailed off and glanced at Whylla, who looked down, sorrow on her face. His position as the King's Hand would take him away from Winterfell to the walls and towers of King's Landing, away from Whylla and Jon. "Sansa and Arya will be accompanying me for various reasons. Sansa is due to marry Prince Joffrey and must go to King's Landing to learn of the court and Southron ways. Arya needs to learn to become a lady and find a husband for herself. However, I have also decided, as you two's punishment, that Gabrielle and Gwyneth accompany me." He spoke and everyone there excluding Ned and Whylla, gasped in shock. He had already discussed it with Whylla, and both of them thought it was a fitting punishment.

"But father, why must Gwyneth go!" Robb asked, and Ned smiled tightened.

"Gwyneth should have known to keep Catelyn and Gabrielle from being in the same room together, and instead of pulling her off of my wife, she left her there to die while she went in search of you and Jon. I partly hold her accountable for what had happened. I think the punishment befits both of you."

Gwyneth and Robb were stunned. Jon and Gabrielle were stunned. Everyone was stunned.

And the worst thing was . . . garnering from Whylla's expressionless look, Ned Stark's mind could not be swayed from his decision.


	29. Chapter 28

**Lemon and tissue time - especially if - like me - you had a certain fondness for Maharet . . .**

**Originally, this was also going to have a lemon between Robb and Gwyn, but all my effort went into making this one and it came out longer than I expected when I was done, so the next chapter will contain the Robb and Gwyn lemon :)**

**Basically its a smut chapter with a heart-wrenching plot in the beginning that if you don't cry while reading you, you don't have a heart. Well, really, its not that bad, i was joking :)**

**- Nagiana**

* * *

><p><em>Gabrielle and Jon Snow's POV . . .<em>

"Is everything prepared, Maharet?" Gabrielle asked quietly as she finished penning the last few orders to her and Jon's staff the night before they were destined to set off for King's Landing with her flourishing signature, 'Gabrielle, Lady Snow'.

The older woman let out a sniff and nodded, her eyes tearing over, although she hastily wiped them away so that her mistress would not be able to see them. Tomorrow morning, she would be separated from the young woman that she had learned to love like a daughter, had safely delivered each of her children into this harsh, cruel world, and who had developed a lion-like loyalty for. Gabrielle and Gwyneth both would receive new ladies upon reaching King's Landing, ladies that no doubt would report every little thing to the Queen. Maharet would not see her again until the Gods knew when and it made her heart break at the knowledge.

"Yes, Lady . . . all the clothing you will need is packed, as well as stationary, your books and mementoes from all of us," She then smiled a teary smile and held out a pair of knitted gloves to her in her shaky hands. Gabrielle smiled back as she took them. "Lark knitted these for you yesterday before her studies . . . I told her that you probably wouldn't need knitted gloves in the South, but she refused to hear me and 'ordered' me to tell you that she will pray that you will remember her and wear them well." She told her and Gabrielle felt tears come to her eyes as she hugged the gloves to her, her heart breaking at the cruel fact that she would not be able to see her children until Gods knew when. That in itself was the worst kind of punishment Ned could have dealt her.

"Watch over them Maharet . . . protect them. Do not allow Catelyn to unleash her anger upon them." She begged her and Maharet adopted a steely expression as she rigidly straightened her back. She looked like a very formidable woman standing there before her, like an immovable stone wall, and the redheaded woman gazed at her mistress pointedly.

"My Lady, I would rather die a thousand painful deaths, than allow that bitch to sink her claws into our children." She spoke tersely and Gabrielle grinned and laughed as she embraced her friend tightly. For the longest time, they had called the children 'their' children, and really, why couldn't they? The children went around calling Maharet, 'nanny' and Jon had done nothing to dissuade it. He had always grinned and laughed and asked them to whom else was their grandmother, in which case they would reply, 'Whylla is our nanny, not Catelyn!'.

It would be the last inside joke and embrace that they would ever share.

The door opened and closed silently and Gabrielle felt Jon standing patiently behind her as they reluctantly parted, Maharet's hands gripping Gabrielle's upper arms. "I'm so proud of you, Gabi . . ." Maharet spoke. "Despite your flaws and your mistakes, you are a good woman, a wonderful mother and a loving wife. I wish you nothing but luck in King's Landing." She told her, and Gabrielle nodded tearfully.

"Thank you, Maharet. Your words mean the world to me, I mean it! In case we are doomed to never meet again, I . . . I hope you have a good life here in Winterfell. I assume . . ." She turned at the waist to gaze at Jon standing behind her, who nodded, his gaze soft as he watched them.

"Yes, I have promised to always look after Maharet and her family. She will lack for nothing, I promise." He told her, and Maharet gazed at them gratefully.

"The both of you . . . I wish you luck. You are good people; Jon and Gabrielle . . . don't let anyone tell you differently." She spoke and they nodded as Maharet lovingly pressed a kiss to Gabrielle's forehead. They stood there for a moment, trying desperately to stave off sobs and finally, Maharet moved onto Jon, where she did the same. She gazed into his eyes pointedly.

"Don't you dare let this one go, Jon! She has made her mistakes, but she will atone for them! You will not find a better woman to love!" She told him and Jon's gaze was soft and loving as he gazed at Gabrielle over Maharet's shoulder, a gaze that made Gabrielle's breath catch in her throat.

"Don't worry Maharet . . . I won't ever let her go." He promised her, and Maharet smiled before she curtsied, bid them one last teary goodbye, and took her leave of them. Jon and Gabrielle stood in silence for a moment, both of them getting used to not having the sparkling presence that had once been so prevalent in their lives and which was now gone. Finally, Gabrielle's shaky voice finally broke the silence.

"Did you . . . did you mean what you said, Jon?" She asked, and Jon smiled and held out his hand to her. She hesitantly took it, and he pulled her into his arms, where he kissed her longingly, lingeringly, the way he had wanted to kiss her for so long now. When they broke apart, he cupped her face in his hands and gazed into her eyes.

"I meant every word. You made mistakes, some of them worse than others, but it is as Maharet said. You will atone for them and I have forgiven you. I just don't want to lose you to the beast that is King's Landing!" He spoke and she gazed at him, driving her point home.

"You will not lose me Jon . . . I will be strong and I _will _return to you! Jaime be damned, I _love you_!" She told him and Jon smiled as he embraced her, breathing in her heavenly scent for a moment.

"This is our last night together . . ." He murmured almost in awe at the prospect. Gabrielle hugged him tighter.

"I want to savor it . . ." She murmured and he nodded.

"We will . . ."

He kissed her all the way down to her shoulder blades, his lips leaving a trail of white-hot fire down her back as his hands gently moved down her arms, massaging her shoulders gently. Gabrielle moaned out softly as his teeth nibbled on her skin lightly and she allowed her head to fall to the side a little, allowing him to lead another trail of white-hot fire up the side of her neck to where he nibbled gently on her earlobe. She felt his hard arousal pressing against her and she turned her head so that their lips could meet. He slid his tongue into her mouth and explored every inch of it, reveling in the sweetness coating her, tasting the hints of honey still left behind from that night's dinner.

Jon slowly undid the laces to the back of her dress and allowed it to fall to the floor at their feet, revealing her nudity to him. His lips nipped at hers lightly as he took her breasts in his large hands, where he kneaded them gently. After a moment, he lowered his head and kissed them softly, nibbling at her nipples lightly, and Gabrielle gasped in pleasure, her hand moving to run through his hair.

Soon after that, his lips returned to hers and he lifted her up in his strong arms, where he carried her to their bed. He lowered her gently down onto it, their lips never parting from their passionate kiss. He kneeled above her and pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it to the pile of clothes a few feet away.

Jon silently watched her as Gabrielle allowed her hands to run over his chest and stomach, feeling every lean, corded muscle and every white scar puckered upon the bronze skin. There was no guilt with him like there had been with Jaime. Jaime had always been in-the-moment-pleasure, whereas she had always been able to _savor _her lovemaking with Jon instead of hastening it.

Her hand eventually stopping at his straining pants and Jon let out a hiss of indignation when she did not continue lower. He caressed her bare stomach, smiling a small smile when he felt the muscles jump and quiver underneath his light touch. "Gabrielle . . ." He breathed, his deep voice trembling slightly, his eyes fogging over slightly with desire. "Gabrielle, let me be the last man that ever takes you . . ."

Absolutely no thought went into her answer. She had made up her mind long ago and this was the man that she had chosen. "Yes . . ." Gabrielle whispered, nodding her head as if he didn't understand her words. "Yes, Jon . . . I want you to be the last man I ever have . . . the last man who will ever know me as intimately as you . . ."

Jon kissed her again after her words, his hand slowly making its way down to between her legs, where he cupped her gently. Gabrielle gasped as she felt his hand rub her passionately, his lips trailing down to worry at the crook of her neck. She moaned and closed her eyes as his ministrations grew harder to ignore, more insistent in what they wanted and demanded. She had never even imagined it could feel this good, and her hands gripped his biceps so hard her knuckles almost turned white. She felt how he thrust a finger into her and moved it in and out, faster and faster, joined quickly by another one.

"Oh Gods Jon . . .!" She breathed, and he covered her mouth with his again. She reached down to shakily unbutton his belt and pants, and he wasn't slow in helping her.

When his belt, pants and boots had joined the rest of their quickly growing clothes pile on the floor, he carefully parted her legs. Her breathing hitched as Jon buried his face in-between her neck and shoulder, her lips pressing kisses to the hallow of his stubbled throat, and with one smooth, upward thrust, he was moving inside of her.

Gabrielle whimpered when he finally joined them and quickly bit down on her bottom lip. But as he thrust again and again, the sensation of pleasure washed over her, and she quickly found her rhythm and joined in with him, moving her hips with his, to meet every thrust he gave her. The both of them reveled in the feeling of their slick skin moving deliciously against each other's as her legs moved up his to wrap around his waist, pulling him in deeper to her, both of them letting out a moan at the new feeling.

Their lips found each other again, and Gabrielle's hands wrapped around his biceps, squeezing them periodically. They sped up; pushing the boundaries of the height they were so desperate to reach, and Jon's hands gripped the headboard above her to better help him pound relentlessly into her, as Gabrielle's nails dug into the skin of his sides, his back, bringing blood as she wrapped herself around him, both of them driving each other relentlessly to the brink . . . the blessed brink . . .

Their moans grew louder as they both reached their climax; both of them seeing stars explode behind their eyelids when they closed them as their orgasm washed over them in warm waves. Gabrielle felt Jon spilling himself inside of her as her inner muscles clenched around him, making both of them temporarily breathless at the feeling.

They lay like that for a moment, Jon still supporting himself on the headboard above her, both of them trying desperately to catch their breath. Gabrielle saw the muscles of Jon's arms quiver above her as he fought to support himself in order to save her his weight.

After a moment, he pulled out of her, both of them shuddering at the feeling of him slowly withdrawing from her, and he collapsed on the bed beside her. He turned onto his side, where he put his arms around her, bringing her close to him. They were both sweaty and breathing heavily as they kissed again, his fingers running gently through her sweaty hair.

They made love repeatedly that night, taking quick bouts of sleep between to gain energy. They made love up until the time there came a knocking on their door informing them that Gabrielle was to get ready to leave with the court to King's Landing. Then, they made love again.


	30. Chapter 29

**Okay, here's Gwyn's chapter. Doesn't exactly have the lemon scene in it that I promised, but I think you'll like it all the same. **

**Next chapter is Gabrielle's introduction chapter into King's Landing, the explosive encounter between her and Jaime that you've all been waiting for, and the unfolding dialogue leading to the climax ;)**

**As always, enjoy and review!**

**- Nagiana**

**PS - Sorry for all the short chapters I've been giving you lately, I promise that the next one will be a tad bit more longer :)**

* * *

><p><em>Gwyneth Stark's POV . . .<em>

"I hate her, oh I _hate_ her!"

"Sansa, darling, please calm down!" Gwyneth urged the sobbing girl as Ned Stark somberly led away Sansa's beautiful direwolf, Lady. Sansa shook her head.

"Lady didn't do it, Gwyn! It was that stupid Nymeria! Lady wouldn't hurt anyone! You've seen her! She was a good direwolf! She never thought about biting _anyone_!" Gwyn nodded and patted the young girl on the back as she fell into her sister-in-law's arms, sobbing.

"I know, Sansa, I know, but we can't find Nymeria! I'm sorry, but your father done all that he could and unfortunately, it wasn't a lot . . ." She told her and although she knew they weren't the most comforting words she could have spoken, Sansa calmed down nonetheless and her sobs eventually faded away into sniffles.

"I want to marry Joffrey, Gwyn! I want to marry him and have gorgeous, golden-haired babies . . . what is Arya's stupid direwolf ruined that?" She demanded, and Gwyneth sighed and smoothed a lock of Sansa's auburn colored hair out of her face.

"I'm sure Joffrey and Queen Cersei will forgive you. After all, it had Nymeria – Arya's direwolf – that had bit him, not Lady, not yours." She told her, and Sansa lay there, thinking.

"Gabrielle has the Queen's ear . . . she is Queen Cersei's favorite. Maybe she could say something . . ." Gwyneth didn't say anything, but a small frown creased her features, nonetheless. It was Gabrielle's fault that they were part of the procession leading to King's Landing. Gabrielle was the reason why she and Robb were parted from each other, why she would have to give birth to their first child in the viper pit of King's Landing.

Of course, Gabrielle had to blow things out of proportion. She had taken to wearing all black gowns with slashing of ruby red and other bright colors to signify her separation from her husband and children, yet telling that they were not dead. Gwyneth thought she was overdoing it a bit, but a lot of people respected her for doing it, and she loathed to admit it, but Gwyneth did too, to some extent.

Although she was still amazed at how some people could be so damned _loyal _to her . . .

_"So let me get this straight . . . you're not angry at her . . .?" Gwyneth asked him, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion and incredulity, as she sat across the table from her husband, various fruits and a pitcher of wine set before them. Robb shrugged wearily as his hands rubbed his face._

_"I was angry at her Gwyn, I still am - I just forgive her; there's a difference!" He told her. "She's one of my oldest friends, I cannot stay angry at her and me and Jon . . . we cannot allow something like this come between us, not when Gabrielle seems so regretful for what she's done."_

_Gwyneth shook her head, amazement echoing in her eyes. "If I didn't know any better, I would say you still loved her . . ." She spoke quietly,_

_The look Robb gave her could have melted the Wall._

_"Where did you hear that?" He asked her quietly, his voice dangerous in both its intensity and venom. Gwyneth blanched and put a hand on her protruding stomach, almost as if reminding him that she carried his child. His eyes flitted to the movement, but he remained expressionless, his eyes telling her that he did not forget._

_"I . . . Catelyn told me that she had tried to arrange a marriage between you two before her and Jon's marriage . . . and that for a while, it had been so. She told me a long time ago, though . . . it hardly matters." Robb gazed at her, knowing in his heart that it did, indeed matter. He and Gabrielle had become close for a while there, when a marriage between them seemed very likely. They had went riding in the woods often, amateur hunting in which one or both of them would have shot a rabbit or a gopher – barely enough for a meal - or hung out in the libraries that were more often than not devoid of people. And yes, they had shared chaste and sometimes (if she allowed them) passionate kisses in the shadows of the oaks and pines and behind the dusty shelves of tomes in the library, but those were as far as they got. _

_Her heart had always been with Jon._

_It had always been Jon. _

_Robb sighed. "That is irrelevant -"_

_"Why is it irrelevant, Robb?" Gwyneth interrupted him angrily. "It is a simple question! Are you still in love with Gabrielle?"_

_Robb's eyes grew angry at the question. "I do not _love _her, Gwyn! Once I did, but now, I would say it is more . . . _affection._" The answer seemed lame when released from the confines of his lips and mind, and he could tell Gwyneth felt the same._

_Gwyneth averted her eyes to the table set between them. "I am sorry for my anger, Robb. It is just . . . can you blame me? There is something about Gabrielle that men cannot seem to find resistible – Ned, the King, Bran and Rickon - and she has already bedded Jaime Lannister, a man who has been said resembles Barristan the Bold in his loyalty to the Kingsguard vows! I wouldn't . . . I wouldn't hold it against you if she graced your bed too before we met or . . . or after I became with child." She spoke, her cheeks growing hotter with her words, and Robb looked at her in pure incredulity._

_"Are you . . . _delusional_?" He asked her, his words bringing a deeper blush to Gwyneth's cheeks and her eyes to bashfully continue to look down at the table. There had been times when had longed for her touch, for her body to be joined intimately with his, to look across a room like Jon had done twice and see her body growing to accommodate his child. But he knew he would lose a battle, and with Jon, the battle had been lost even before it had begun. Robb had surrendered Gabrielle to his brother, although it pained him to do so, and he had done it because Jon was his brother and he loved him and wanted him to be happy. With Gabrielle, Jon was happy, and if Jon was happy, Robb was happy._

_"I'm sorry Robb, I didn't know . . ." She trailed off and Robb smiled a small, loving smile and gently took her hands in his. He rubbed her knuckles with his thumbs and she smiled a small smile back_

_"Cast it from your mind, love," He begged her. "I and Gabrielle are no more, do not worry a wit," He smiled a conspiratorial smile then. "Now come along with me love . . . it is our last night together; let's make it one to remember."_

_Gwyneth smiled and stood, where she took her husband's hand. Grinning, he led her to their bedchamber, but whether or not she was being paranoid or just caught up in the passion, she noticed how, for the first time since her and Robb's marriage and whirlwind affair and courtship, that the muttered name that passed from his lips when he hit his ecstatic peak, wasn't exactly 'Gwyneth', but another name that started with a 'G'. _

The memory still left Gwyneth feeling bitter as she sat there and comforted Sansa, and when, out of the peripheral of her vision, she saw Gabrielle walking to the carriage with the golden haired Cersei in tow, she felt that bitterness grow. The Dothraki woman's olive skin was flawless, the body under her black gown, voluptuous and svelte, her hair long, thick and beautiful, a kin to Cersei's golden locks. There was nothing about that woman that was not absolutely beautiful. Even her personality, flawed and oh-so-human, drew people to her in droves.

The two fit each other perfectly, the Queen Cersei and the Lady Snow . . . they were two beautiful stars that would eventually burn out.

* * *

><p><em>Robb Stark . . .<em>

"I think she heard me last night . . . I think she did . . ."

Theon Greyjoy laughed as he bit into the apple he was holding. He watched as a miserable Robb Stark sat in his chair by the fire, his face in his hands, mentally beating himself up for something he had said.

"Does it happen often?" He asked, and Robb shook his head miserably.

"Not too often . . . but I say it enough for me to worry sometimes."

"Has she heard you before?" Robb shook his head again.

"I don't think so. Most of the time, when it does slip out, she's so caught up in her own pleasure, that she doesn't hear it. I don't scream it, you know; I have more tact than that!" He told his friend, and Theon shrugged.

"Then what are you worried about?" He asked as he finished his apple and tossed the core into the fire. It popped and sizzled in the heat, immediately filling the room with a apple scent that Robb did not find wholly unappealing. He slowly lifted his head to gaze up at Theon with a shocked look on his face, nonetheless.

"What am I worried about – Theon! I muttered my sister-in-law's name when I came last night! A name that I'm pretty sure my _pregnant _wife heard! Why _shouldn't _I be worried?" He demanded, and Theon sighed and shook his head.

"If you're pretty sure this is the first time she's _ever _heard you mutter the sweet, oh-so-_delectable _Gabrielle's name when you're in the midst of passionate throes, then simply pass it off as she misheard you. She can't prove you wrong and in you're in the clear." Robb shook his head miserably again.

"You don't know my wife, Theon . . . she'll know. She'll know I'm lying and I _won't _be in the clear!" Theon shrugged.

"Don't worry about it! She's your wife, what can she do?" He asked, and Robb rolled his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Theon, if I actually want to have a good relationship with my wife!" He spoke, and Theon snorted.

"Well, I don't know about you, Robb, but if I was married and there was a woman as breathtakingly beautiful as Gabrielle Snow walking around, I wouldn't be muttering her name in bed, I would be _screaming _it!" He teased, and Robb rolled his eyes as he turned his unblinking eyes back onto the fire, his hands clasped in front of his lips.

"Well that differentiates between me and you, Theon." He muttered as he descended into his thoughts, where, as always, Gabrielle haunted them like the ghosts of Starks haunted the hallowed halls of Winterfell.


	31. Chapter 30

**Okay, this chapter is a little bit longer so I'm happy about that, but other than that, it was really fun to write, especially the last part with Jaime and Gerrick! I think you'll like it and I think I'll have a little bit more fun writing the next few chapters.**

**By the way, for all of you who do not remember him, Jaime's friend Gerrick located at the end of the chapter, is the very same Gerrick located in the chapter when Jaime is in the great hall, watching Gabrielle dance and he's teasing him about getting a woodie for Gabrielle. I very rarely put in a character with a substantial name, without him showing up later, so there ya go, I DID use him again!**

**Enjoy the chapter as much I enjoyed writing it :)**

**- Nagiana**

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><p><em>Ned Stark's POV . . .<em>

"King Robert and Queen Cersei, may I introduce to you, the Lady Gabrielle Snow of Winterfell . . ."

Ned sighed as he resumed his placed beside Petyr 'Littlefinger' Balish on the dais holding the Iron Throne and the members of the King's Council, as the doors at the end of the throne room opened with a mighty creak. Littlefinger leaned into Ned, grinning.

"I hear Lady Snow's beauty is great . . . is it exaggerated?" He asked, and Ned shot him a look that said 'scram', although Littlefinger did not heed it. "I am just curious, my Lord." Ned nodded toward the woman now entering the room.

"Judge her yourself, although I will say this . . . she is rather beautiful; my son did well."

The people in the court of King's Landing murmured and gossiped quietly to themselves s Gabrielle made her way down the hall towards the Iron Throne holding the hulking figure of King Robert and the tall, beautiful, blonde Queen standing beside him, who smiled gentle as Gabrielle quickly closed the distance between them. She knew the rumors that floated around her, and despite them, she held her head high.

"Now . . . is this the son that you have named your successor? Will a Snow inherit Winterfell?" Littlefinger whispered to Ned, and Ned shot him another look, this one full of malice.

"That is none of your concern, Littlefinger. Although, I will tell you that Jon soon will not be a bastard. He will soon be Jon Stark, Gabrielle: Gabrielle Stark and their children will be Starks too." Littlefinger resumed his stature beside Ned, his eyes glinting in the light and a self-satisfied smirk lighting up his features.

"Thank you Ned . . . I think I have everything I need to know . . ."

Wearing a gown of black flowing silk slashed with blood red silk of equal wealth, Gabrielle fell demurely to her knees before the King and Queen and the rest of the King's councilors. Her hair hung black and thick down her back, the darkness of her hair and clothing adding emphasis to her mother's olive colored Dothraki skin.

Ned, however, felt a cold finger of dread run down his spine at Littlefinger's words. He turned his head to gaze at him. "You touch or harm Gabrielle, and I swear I will -"

Littlefinger adopted a curious look on his face as he regarded Ned, and spoke, successfully interrupting them. "If I didn't know any better, Ned, I would say Gabrielle has caught you in her net as well! What _is _it about this woman that entrances every man she meets?" Ned glared at Littlefinger until he rolled his eyes and sighed. "I swear on my poor mother's grave that I will not touch a hair on her or Jon's poor little heads!" He promised, and Ned nodded and returned to gaze back at the scene unfolding before them, still uneasy at Littlefinger's words but unwilling to show them.

Jaime and the rest of the golden Kingsguard stood in a long line down the length of the throne room, an impenetrable barrier between the court and the royal family and councilors. Ser Barristan Selmy, otherwise known at Barristan the Bold, stood directly in front of Gabrielle and the King, and shot the young woman a gentle smile as she bowed. She returned it as she bowed her head as well.

She avoided Jaime's eyes the entire time, even though he tried his damndest to catch them.

"She does seem to be blatantly avoiding Ser Jaime's eyes, though . . ." Littlefinger spoke again in curiosity and Ned shot his eyes onto Littlefinger's, anger echoing in his brown depths.

"Do not get involved, into something that does concern you, Littlefinger! Besides, it's not blatant!" He snapped quietly as he turned his eyes back onto Gabrielle, and Littlefinger recoiled, a look of extreme interest in his eyes this time.

"Ooh, did something juicy happen at Winterfell while the court was visiting, that I do not know about?" He asked, and Ned turned to gaze at him pointedly, determinedly.

"Do . . . not . . . get . . . involved . . . into something that . . . does not . . . concern you . . ." He told him slowly, and Littlefinger respectfully bowed at the harsh tone of Ned's voice.

"Of course, my Lord . . . you do not have to be so testy!"

Ned scoffed and rolled his eyes. _I wouldn't have to be testy if you just minded your own business!_

"Good King Roberts and gracious Queen Cersei, I thank you for allowing me to come to court. It is an extreme honor!" Gabrielle spoke, her voice echoing throughout the throne room, and Cersei nodded in approval and smiled graciously at her friend, while Robert remained expressionless. Despite everything, Cersei still had a fondness for the young woman kneeling before them. She never liked Catelyn Stark, even when she was an Tully, and while the Queen did not condone Gabrielle's actions, she had to commend her attempt.

"You are certainly welcome here, Lady Stark . . . you are most welcome here, indeed." Cersei spoke, and Robert nodded his agreement, although he did not say anything. He, unlike his wife, was disappointed in Gabrielle. He had liked Catelyn, of course, how could he not when Ned was his best friend, and Gabrielle seemed like such a levelheaded, lovely woman. Just the thought that she could have committed such a heinous crime of trying to murder Ned's wife – even by accident – rattled his very bones!

Gabrielle stood and curtsied one last time before she turned around and swept from the throne room, her black and scarlet skirts swishing around her feet s she moved. Her eyes connected with Gwyneth's for a split second, and the hostility between them was very apparent. Both of them blamed the other for them being there, and neither one of them would apologize anytime soon.

"Don't look now . . . but Ser Jaime is leaving the hall after her . . ." Littlefinger muttered to Ned, who snapped his eyes on the scene just in time to see Jaime detach himself away from the Kingsguard and move swiftly and inconspicuously after her.

With the grace and poise of a man born with courtly manners, Ned excused himself from the court and fallowed behind the golden-maned Lannister.

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><p><em>Jaime Lannister and Gabrielle Snow's POV . . .<em>

"Gabrielle, wait!"

Gabrielle's heart thumped at the sound of the voice coming behind her, but she continued determinedly down her path to her quarters. All she had to do was reach her quarters and she could avoid him . . . refuse to see him . . . wait to tell Ned or Cersei to command him to leave her alone – anything! She just _had _to reach her quarters –

The gentleness of Jaime's hand wrapping around her upper arm, keeping her from walking away even further, caused her to let out a yelp of surprise as she abruptly stopped, tripping on the hem of her gown as she did so. She plummeted to the ground and landed on her ass, tears springing to her eyes as she did so. _Why _did this happen to her? She had atoned for what she done, she was _through_ with him! Why did the Gods insist on having him plague her!

He bent down and gently helped her to her feet. "I'm sorry, Gabrielle, I didn't know you would fall -"

"What do you want?" She demanded as she yanked her arm free of his grasp, rubbing it almost as if he had scalded her. He sighed, finding himself at a loss for words. Truthfully, he had acted on a whim, knowing that this would be one of the few chances he would ever have to talk to her, and didn't know what he would say.

"How . . . how are you?" He asked, knowing the words sounded as lame as they meant, and Gabrielle's raised an impatient eyebrow.

"How do you think I'm doing, Jaime?" She demanded coldly. "My life has gone to the dogs – which I have just now recovered from! My brother-in-law lies in a coma because of something _you _done, and I am _atoning _from that!" Jaime flinched slightly at her words.

"I'm sorry for that Gabrielle, really I am! I just . . . I acted on a whim!" He told her, and Gabrielle gazed at him in incredulity.

"You _acted on a whim_! Gods, Jaime, you _threw _an eight-year-old boy from a fucking _window_! If that is your acting on a whim, I'm starting to wonder how the Hell you got on the Kingsguard!"

_By fucking my sister . . ._ He thought, but shook the thoughts from his mind. He gently grasped her upper arms. "Gabrielle, I'm sorry! You have no idea how that decision has plagued me, especially when I saw how quickly you deserted me after -"

"Well what did you expect me to do, Jaime?" She asked, interrupting him. "Stay with you? Continue to love you with a fawning adoration? You threw a boy that I looked at as my own son, from a fucking window! What did you honestly expect me to do?" She asked and he put his hand to her head.

"I don't know why I did it, Gabrielle, okay!" He spat at her, his anger growing as well as hers. Her eyes became stormy, and he let out an impatient breath. "Acting on a whim is the only way I can describe what I done! Believe me; I don't go throwing little kids out of windows, okay? I'm not that mean and psychotic!" Gabrielle crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"Okay, this is getting us nowhere, so I'm just going to stop beating around the bush and actually address the issue here: Jaime, I am never, in a million years, going to see you again. I don't want to hear from you, I don't want to see you, hide nor hair, for as long as I live." She told him, her voice controlled and firm. "I have just now got my life back on track with Jon, my children, and our family. I'm not going to ruin it for a man I have only affection for, much less a man that can offer me nothing in life!"

It wasn't exactly as Jaime had envisioned their conversation going.

"Gabrielle, I -"

"Gabrielle, there you are!"

Jaime inwardly cursed Ned Stark for having to interrupt them. He turned around, and Ned inclined his head to the tall, blonde guard, an action that Jaime returned. "Lord Stark . . ."

"Ser Jaime . . ." Ned returned before his eyes fell onto Gabrielle, where they softened. "They want you back in court, Gabi." He said, and Gabrielle smiled tightly.

"Good, me and Jaime had just finished talking," She gazed at Jaime pointedly and Ned almost recoiled at the level of hostility she was firing at him. "I can promise you that me and Jaime will never, _ever _meet again, Ned." She spoke, and Ned sighed. He had to admit, the words gave him comfort, but Jaime wasn't exactly used to rejection. "Well, we better hurry. Robert isn't exactly known for his patience . . ." He chuckled as Gabrielle moved forward and took her father-in-law's arm, where he turned and led her back to the doors of the throne room, Jaime watching them go, feeling rage well up inside him.

Fine . . . if Gabrielle wanted to be that way, then so be it.

If Jaime couldn't have her, then dammit, no one would.

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><p><em>Jaime Lannister's POV (cont.) . . .<em>

"I want Gwyn . . ."

Jaime gazed up at Ser Gerrick in confusion that went well with the headache that he was nursing with a flagon of lukewarm ale. "What did you say?"

Gerrick nodded in finality as he leaned back in his chair and took a hearty swig of his ale. "I'll help you pull-off what you want, but I want Gwyneth Stark in return." Jaime nodded in understanding, but still gazed at his best friend in slight confusion.

"Why the Hell do you want Gwyneth Stark of all women?" He asked. "She's beautiful, sure, but her tongue could lash a dragon!" Gerrick shrugged.

"It's a matter of, uh . . . _principle._ She was promised to me before she married that puppy Stark, and I intend to have her one way or the other. Besides, a tongue is nothing. I can handle a sharp tongue," He grinned lasciviously. "You just have to file it down and put it to better use wrapping around something else . . ." Jaime rolled his eyes and took a swig of his ale as Gerrick leaned forward on the table set between them, where he put his finger on the wood. "I want your word, Jaime . . . if I help you steal away Gabrielle Snow out from underneath the noses of the Starks, then I get to steal away Gwyneth Stark."

Jaime shrugged and shook his head. "You have my word, but . . . she's pregnant." He spoke, and this time, Gerrick's grin wasn't lascivious . . . it was cruel.

"Oh Jaime, a squalling brat of a toothless puppy isn't nothing! That's what rocks are for!"


	32. Chapter 31

**LOL, I know I've been updating quite quickly, but did I not tell you guys that I was excited about these next few chapters? I think you'll love these chapters and it took me a while to figure out how to end this chapter, but I think I did well. The main thing I'm wondering if you guys have caught on to the "faceless boy" at the end of this chapter and what "being faceless" means when it comes to him. I'm quite happy with him actually. I put a lot of thought into him and I hope you like him, no matter how fleeting he's going to be in this fanfiction . . . well, in that form, anyway ;)**

**- Enjoy, cause I'm gonna keep updating as long as I'm on a roll!**

**Nagiana**

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><p><em>Gabrielle Snow and Gwyneth Stark's POV . . .<em>

"Gwyneth, don't start!"

Gabrielle was fuming. Her heels clacked on the marble floors of the palace as she marched her way to the Godswood, where hopefully, the fresh air would clear her head out fast enough to where she wouldn't end up punching Gwyneth by the time their conversation (well, fight, if you want to get technical).

When they finally reached the open air of the Godswood, the emerald green grass, the bleached whiteness and blood-red leaves of the Godtree, Gabrielle did let out a sigh of relief, feeling her head clear as she stood there longer and longer. When she turned around, Gwyneth was standing there, her hands on her hips and an angry look on her eyes.

"Well?"

Gabrielle sighed and crossed her arms in front of her chest as she regarded the woman standing across from her. Her pregnancy was clear now; her ladies were just letting her dresses out, and quite frankly, Gabrielle didn't think she looked so good. "I told you. I ended things with Jaime, permanently." Gwyneth raised an eyebrow as she regarded her sister-in-law.

"Really, Gabrielle, is that true? Did you do the same thing the first time he left?" She asked, and Gabrielle's face became stormy again as she regarded the woman. She opened her mouth to say something, but a man's voice interrupted her. It was a man's voice she knew way too well, and this time, it wasn't a voice of love and adoration, it was one of coldness and threat, and he wasn't alone. He had five people with him, all armed men, and all menacing.

"It's true; Gwyneth . . . Gabrielle has indeed ended things between us."

Gwyneth spun around at Jaime's words, her eyes growing wide at the same thing that Gabrielle was gazing at expressionlessly. "Gwyneth, get behind me . . ." Gabrielle told her evenly, her eyes pinned on Jaime's, and the woman didn't hesitate. She flitted behind Gabrielle with the speed of a butterfly, and although her heart pounded with fear and adrenaline in her chest, Gabrielle did not allow it to show.

Gabrielle slowly and calmly allowed the Valyrian dagger to slide down her sleeve so that the pommel was resting in her cupped hand, hoping against hope that Jaime wouldn't notice her subtle movement. There was something wrong with Jaime . . . something dark.

"Jaime . . . I meant no hard feelings when I told you that . . ." She told him, and Jaime crossed his arms in front of his bronze breastplated chest and nodded.

"Oh, I know, Gabi . . . it's just . . . I'm not ready to let you go," He smirked then. "And what gives you the idea that you can best me with just a dagger?" He asked, and although her heart pounded harder at the fact that he _knew _she had a dagger in her hand, she did not allow that to show as well.

"You forget Jaime, that I am part Dothraki and that my father was a blacksmith. I grew up in the training rings of the Starks . . . I know my way around a blade." She told him, and Jaime nodded, admitting that she had him there.

"Yes, that is true, although I am a Knight of the Kingsguard . . ."

"That doesn't mean shit!" She snapped, and the men behind Jaime laughed, Gerrick punching him on the shoulder, grinning.

"It seems like your girl has a barbed tongue too, Jaime! You have your work cut out for you!" He spoke, and Jaime grinned, his eyes falling onto Gabrielle, the blue depths twinkling in the light. Once, his blue eyes had enraptured her, as one of his finest points. But now they repulsed her.

"But unlike your blue-blooded Gwyneth, Gerrick, mine is well used to putting hers to good use! From what Jon Snow brags about, she is quite talented with that tongue of hers!"

The men laughed uproariously, causing a blush to creep up Gabrielle neck and cheeks and causing Gwyneth to cling tighter to her. Gerrick grinned and peered behind Gabrielle to catch sight of Gwyneth.

"I don't know, Jaime . . . from what I remember, Gwyn has quite the little harlot's mouth on her too!" He spoke, and the men laughed again, causing Gwyneth to tremble behind Gabrielle.

"Is that bastard a friend of yours, Gwyn?" Gabrielle asked, and Gerrick shrugged.

"You could say that. Let's just say that Gwyneth wasn't exactly chaste going to that pup's bed." He spoke, and Gwyneth let out a small sob, although Gabrielle gritted her teeth in determination.

"I'll cut off your balls, I swear to the Gods I will!" She hissed at them and the men 'ooo'ed' as Jaime simply grinned. He stood there, proud and cocky in his golden Kingsguard armor with the white cape, allowing his men to makes these lewd comments, and all Gabrielle could see was that beautiful white cloak and golden hair of his covered in blood.

"You better watch out Jaime!" One of his friends called out and they all laughed again, Jaime grinning and glancing at him as well, laughter leaving his chest. This was the time Gabrielle chose to strike. Twirling her dagger around to grasp it by the pommel and shrugging herself free of the stone-like grip of Gwyneth, Gabrielle kicked off her heels and ran at Jaime, her dagger held aloft. One of the men called out a warning to him, and the look of shock on Jaime's face was priceless as she hit him squarely in the chest, causing him to crash to the ground. He temporarily lost his breath, seeing stars dancing before his eyes at the jarring impact, and she landed on top of him, her dagger whirling down to his neck. His hand grasped her wrist and he fought her. At first, she resisted, but bit by bit, he slowly won. He was a man, after all, and his strength greatly outnumbered hers.

He threw her dagger away and got to his feet, Gabrielle hissing and unleashing cusswords every second it seemed. She reminded him vaguely of a female mongoose he remembered catching one day in the woods and that he took back to Casterly Rock as a gift for Cersei. It was as sleek and black as night, the color of Gabrielle's hair and it had fought like she was doing now – tooth and nail. Not-to-mention, they also had the same look in the eyes – one of desperation, fear and absolute loathing.

It was the polar opposite of the way she _had _looked at him.

Jaime grinned. "I admit, you have skills, my little Dothraki Princess," He admitted. "But you have better skills that I intend to put too much greater use!" He spoke and his men laughed again, but this time, Gabrielle reared back and hacked a great wad of spit into Jaime's face.

"Fuck you!" She spat, her eyes showing nothing but hate, and the one Jaime returned to her was one of equal hate as he slowly wiped away the spit from his eyes.

"Oh don't worry, Gabi . . . you'll be doing that very soon." He hissed coldly before he struck her up against the head, swiftly knocking her unconscious.

Gabrielle had just enough time to hear Gwyneth shout her name in fear and horror before Gabrielle slumped in Jaime's arms, her world fading to blackness.

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><p><em>Gabrielle Snow's POV . . .<em>

_"Mama . . . Mama, where are you . . .!"_

_Children's voices flitted through her voice like the light spring rains of the South as she ran through the high grasses of the Dothraki Sea. They tickled her legs as she ran; swishing in the breeze, creating another voice that seemed to go along with the other voices that she was hearing . . . the voices of her children._

_The voices turned to laughter as she continued running, as the scenery continued to change. It changed from the smooth lines of reality, to the swishing moves of brushstrokes. The bright sun was made of yellow and dots of white, the grass the same. The sky was swirls of different colors of blue and the horses looked like little parchment dolls running along the horizon. She paused and looked down at her hands. They were normal. They were smooth and unblemished, with the traditional palm lines that she had possessed since as long as she could remember._

_"Mama . . . mama, where _aaaareeee yooooouuu_?" _

_There were the voices of her children, and the laughter again. They sounded more desperate this time, and she knew that they were lost in the Dothraki Sea . . . in this sea of brushstrokes and parchment._

_She took off running again. For a moment, she was running amongst a herd of horses, with Dothraki on horseback leading them on. The Dothraki and the horses had no face, yet their sounds and neighs could be heard. _

_Her children's voices grew clearer. She was nearing them._

_"Gabrielle . . . why are you running from me?"_

_Gabrielle skidded to a stop and turned around, where she saw the figure of her golden-haired lion standing behind her. She swallowed heavily and her mind tried desperately to link him to 'mate' like she did this time, but it didn't happen. Instead, when she conjured up the word 'mate', Jon's face appeared._

_His face appeared . . . like it should._

_Gabrielle shook her head and turned around, where she took off as a run in the direction she was heading, leaving Jaime's words of anger and protest behind her. Her children's voices were growing farther away now . . . she needed to reach them before something happened. _

_They were growing closer again . . . she could see them now . . . there was a little girl – her Lark! Her beautiful Lark! – And three boys – her Nate and Ned and –_

_Wait . . . there were _three _boys. She only had two . . . did she?_

_The children stopped running and chasing each other, and instead, turned to gaze at her, where broad beams broke out onto their faces. The third boy, the one she didn't recognize, did not have a face._

_"Momma's here! Come on, Nate! Ned, Benjen, momma's here! She found us!" Lark shouted as she took off at a run for Gabrielle, her black hair flowing behind her and shining brightly in the bright sun. Gabrielle stood there, stunned, as she watched the third boy running towards her – Benjen, was it? – With a stunned look on her face. Benjen was among her children, did that mean?_

_Her hands moved unconsciously to her stomach, where they smoothed across the warm flesh of her womb. Had she and Jon conceived another child the night before her removal from Winterfell?_

_But . . . Benjen didn't have a face like her other children. Did that mean he wasn't born yet . . . or something more sinister?_

_She was brought out of her reverie by her children running into her arms and she grinned and bent down as she hugged them, tears falling down her cheeks as she hugged them. Oh, how she missed them all! She wanted her children, they _needed _her, and she needed them!_

_But then, a quickly as her children had appeared in her arms, they turned to sand, and blew away in the breeze._


	33. Chapter 32

**Okay, this chapter was a little easier to write compared to the other ones and I think you'll like (I've certainly redeemed Gabrielle in some of your eyes *rolls eyes*) and although it does have a minor scene of some questionable nature, its not explicit at all and I think if you read quickly, you probably won't even realize its past. **

**Anyway, hope you all like and I thank you all for your reveiws!**

**- Nagiana**

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><p><em>Gabrielle Snow and Gwyneth Stark's POV . . .<em>

Gabrielle jerked awake, gasping and heaving, tears streaming down her cheeks when she realized what had happened to her children. She jerked when she felt hands on her, gently helping her into a sitting position, but stopped when she realized that they were Gwyneth's hands. They were sitting in front of a large oak tree, and Gabrielle let out a grunt at the excruciating pain that slammed down into her skull from when Jaime had knocked her out with the hilt of her dagger.

"Gabrielle, are you -"

"I have to get back . . . my children need me . . ." Gabrielle spoke in hushed, slightly panicky mutters as she observed her surroundings, noting that they were what looked like to be a large, unknown wood. Jaime and his 'boys' had set up camp, of which they were sitting right smack dab in the middle of, and the foliage above them blocked out any moon or sun that could get inside to penetrate the leafy floor, covering their surroundings in gray shadow. They had no idea where they were and no idea how to escape. Gwyneth furrowed her eyebrows.

"Gabrielle, what do you mean?"

"My children need me, Gwyneth! I can't explain it, but I have to get back to them!" She hugged herself, a shiver of fear running up her spine. _Benjen didn't have a face . . ._

Gwyneth glanced at the fire a few meters away, at the men grouped around it cooking their food and laughing. "We're watched constantly and I have no idea where we are! I was blindfolded when they grabbed me and too scared to listen! We're lost!" She told her in hushed, scared whispers, and Gabrielle shook her head.

"I _will _get to my children, Gwyneth! And nothing will stop me!" She spat bitterly, firmly, before she stood, swooning slightly as her head grew lightheaded, but recovered quickly. Gwyneth tried to grab her hand as she marched over to the fire, where the men immediately grew quiet. Gwyneth stood and stumbled after her as Gabrielle stood before them and the fire. She immediately caught Jaime amongst the men and held his eyes.

"Where are we?" She asked him tersely, imperiously, and Jaime arched an eyebrow.

"The woods . . .?"

His men laughed, but Gabrielle glared him down. A grin stayed on his face as Gerrick punched him on the shoulder. She pursed her lips. "You sure go a far way to sleep with a woman, Jaime, something that a confident man wouldn't need to do. Is your cock really that small, or was I just delusional?" She asked, and the men 'ooo'ed' again, causing Jaime's grim to turn into a smirk.

"I don't know, you weren't really complaining, but while we're on the subject, tell me . . . how big is Jon's? I hear the Starks have big ones, but you know, I've always pegged Jon for a craven, so I don't really know -"

Gabrielle let out an angry snarl and moved to launch herself at him, but one of his men stood and grabbed her around the waist, keeping her pinned. "You are such bastard! How the Hell could I have _ever _fallen for you!" She screeched, and Jaime laughed and sighed dramatically.

"Well, what can I say? I suppose I'm better in bed than I thought. Of course, I shouldn't be surprised when Jon Snow was the only man she had ever felt inside her -"

"_Gods_, I will kill you!" She screeched again through gritted teeth as she struggled harder, rolling her eyes in anger, and Jaime stood, an incredulous look on his face.

"What in the Hell are you talking about, Gabrielle! Used to be, I could insult Jon all I wanted, and you would laugh along with me! Now, you want to rip my throat out! Why have you had such a change of heart?" He asked, and Gabrielle gazed at him in hatred.

"I realized that Jon and any Stark is ten times the man that you are!" She hissed at him and Jaime gritted his teeth and stepped over to her, where he grabbed her by the hair and drug her in front of the fire.

"You want to see a monster, Gabrielle?" His hissed in her ear, and she struggled a little, but every struggle buried his hands deeper in her hair. "Believe me, I'm nothing compared to Gerrick and these men!" He stood after his words and whistled for Gerrick.

"Gerrick . . . Gwyneth sure does seem lonely, doesn't she?" He asked, and a look of confusion appeared on Gerrick's for a moment before his eyes flitted to the frightened Gwyneth standing a few feet away, upon which a broad grin spread across his features. He downed the last of his ale and stood, where he swaggered drunkenly over to Gwyneth. He took out a dagger and grabbed her by the hair, where she let out a screech and started struggling, which only made Gerrick clench tighter. Gabrielle swallowed heavily.

"Jaime, don't do this!" She told him, her eyes wide with horror, her mind piecing together what was about to happen to the poor woman standing before them.

"No Gabrielle! Since you insist on thinking of me as a monster, I think you need to see what one _really_ looks like! I don't rape women, Gabrielle! I don't abuse them; I don't mistreat them in anyway. So, I think you need a reality check . . ."

So Gabrielle had no choice but to watch as Gerrick took his knife and jaggedly cut down the bodice of Gwyneth's bodice to her skirts, giving enough room to where the dress just fell to her feet. She had no choice but to watch as the worst thing ever to happen to a woman happened . . . brutally and which seemed to take forever to pass. She cried with Gwyneth, tears falling down both their cheeks in unison, Gwyneth with tears of pain, Gabrielle with tears of both pain and sympathy. Gabrielle screamed with her and fought and struggled with her, but neither one of them earned their freedom from their captors.

Gabrielle stayed sane with the determination to get back to her children.

But with the feeling of dread in her heart and the excruciating pain below as she was brutally violated, all Gwyneth earned was agony.

When it was done, and Gerrick had stood up from her, Jaime let Gabrielle go. She immediately dropped to her knees and crawled over to Gwyneth, who had curled up into a ball, sobbing with pain, fear and weariness. With a rage burning deep in her heart, Gabrielle picked up the torn remnants of Gwyneth's dress and covered her nudity before she hugged the trembling, sobbing woman tightly.

"The Gods have mercy on your soul, Jaime . . . because you'll need it!" She told him through gritted teeth as Gwyneth clung to her, her dirty nails leaving gouges of mud on her dirty dress-sleeves, and Jaime smirked and shrugged as he turned and walked off back towards the campfire with Gerrick in tow, grinning and laughing as he tied his breeches.

"I lost faith in the Gods when they took you from me. They can go fuck themselves for all I care." He snapped to her over his shoulder, and Gabrielle shot his back a glare of daggers before she gently drug Gwyneth back over to the shadows of their tree, where she tore off a flap of fabric from her ratted, dirty dress.

"Don't worry Gwyn . . . we'll get out of this Hell, I promise!" Gabrielle murmured to her, and Gwyneth tearfully shook her head.

"How are we going to do that Gabrielle? Or better yet, _when _are we going to get out of this Hell?" Gabrielle pursed her lips as she looked behind her at the crackling fire. Her eyes then connected to the five horses stationed a few meters away from the campfire, cropping at the grass and dozing, the shadows growing deeper and darker. A look of steely confidence passed over Gabrielle's eyes.

"We're going to get out now . . . and the shadows are going to help us."

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><p><em>Ned Stark's POV . . .<em>

"For the love of the Gods, they have _taken _them, Robert!" Ned angrily snapped at the man sitting before him on the Iron Throne, flanked by both Littlefinger and Varys the Spider. Ned's eyes and body language snapped with electricity and anger rolled off him in scalding hot waves as King Robert Baratheon sighed and rubbed his face with his hands.

"By the love of the Seven, Ned, I am doing all that I can!" He all but roared back in exasperation, and Ned groaned and rolled his eyes.

"I say this with the upmost loyalty, Robert; you know this, but my sons . . . they will not see you doing everything you can possibly do! They will not see you doing everything in your power to find their wives and the mothers to their children! They will see your 'inaction' as laziness or worse – condonment of what has happened! They are hot-headed with youth; they will _jump_ to conclusions!"

"It is your job, Ned, to keep your sons under control -"

"Keep them under control!" Ned asked in wonderment, gazing at his friend like he had suddenly grown two heads and started square-dancing with the ghost of Rhaegar Targaryen all in one clean move. "Robert, we were both young once and we both understand what it is like to have those we love captured! For Gods' sake, Lyanna -"

"Don't you dare use Lyanna in a time like this, Ned!" Robert threatened him darkly, his brown eyes growing darker with anger. "I am trying all that I can to find the ones that kidnapped Gabrielle and Gwyneth; however, they are proving very elusive! You keep your sons leashed and tethered or I will be threatened to use force on them too!"

Ned stood there for a moment, sinking in everything that Robert had just said and then, slowly – painstakingly slowly – shook his head. "I'm sorry Robert . . . I cannot bridle my sons, any more than you can bridle a dragon! They will want their vengeance, Robert; _you know that_, especially if one or both of them has been raped! I cannot tell Jon and Robb that they cannot have their heads on silver platters when they are practically foaming at the mouth in rage to do so! This is not a warning, this is a suggestion: you _do something_, Robert . . . or Jon and Robb will descend from the North with the anger of a thousand Wildlings, their direwolves nipping and snarling alongside them for the blood of those who had dared to cross them!"

"That wasn't a threat, Ned? That sure sounded like a threat!"

Ned shook his head. "Believe me, Robert . . . I'm so fucking tired of all this bullshit surrounding me that I don't think I could threaten someone even if I tried!"

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><p><em>Robb Stark and Jon Snow's POV . . .<em>

The crunch of booted feet marching quickly towards him brought Jon out of his reverie. He was sitting in the courtyard watching his two eldest children play before him, Ghost nipping and barking playfully alongside them. The white albino direwolf all but practically dwarfed the young Snows in comparison, but he was as gentle as a lame nag when he was around them. He was sitting on a stone bench, his hands clasped in front of his lips and his body trembling with anger. He looked up, however, at the sense of someone approaching him, and he saw Robb was that person, anger rolling off him in waves as well.

"I have yet to hear from father." Robb spoke tersely as he took a seat beside his half-brother, and Jon nodded as he took his hands away from his mouth to speak.

"Me too . . ." He shook his head as he put his hands back to his lips. His eyes were cold as he gazed at his children running, laughing and screaming in front of him. "I want her back, Robb . . . I want her back in my arms, in the arms of our children. I can't stand not knowing if she's alive and well or if she's . . . she's . . ."

He trailed off, not being able to say the words, even in her head.

Robb nodded in agreement. "I know, Robb, I know . . . I can't help feeling like Gwyneth . . . something has happened to her." Jon opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by Lark bounding forward and putting an urgent hand on her father's forearm, where she shook it. Jon gazed at her patiently, waiting until his daughter regained her breath before she spoke,

"Daddy . . . daddy, Nate almost pushed me down!" She spoke, her eyes swimming with tears, and Jon pursed his lips as his eyes sought out Nathaniel standing a few feet away, drawing circles in the sand.

"Nate, don't push down your sister!" He yelled, and Nate nodded, not taking his eyes away from the circles growing in the sands.

"Yes, papa . . ." He called back, and Jon rolled his eyes as he looped an arm around his daughter's waist and pulled her closer to him. Lark wrapped her arms around her father's neck and buried her face in the fur of his collar.

"Have you heard word from Catelyn?" Jon asked Robb, and he shook his head as well.

"No. It's almost as if she dropped off the whole of Westeros," He sighed and turned to gaze at his brother, his eyes sparkling slightly.

"So what do we do? Father left you in charge, so . . . give me an order Lord Snow."

Jon shook his head. "I never asked for this Robb -!"

"Of course you didn't, Jon," Robb interrupted him, sighing. "All you've ever wanted to do in your life was marrying Gabrielle, have a family and maybe come to court for four or five months out of the year. Neither of us realized that when Whylla came back into father's life, you would suddenly found yourself propelled forward."

"Robb, I -"

"Jon, I _don't_ hold this against you . . . any of it!" Robb laughed as he clasped his hand on his brother's shoulder and grinning shook it gently. "I've never held anything against you! The Gods have smiled down on your life – as you _deserved_! – and I will humbly bend knee to you, although I don't think you'll allow me to!" He laughed again, and Jon smiled a small smile and glanced at him.

"All I know is that I want her back, Robb, and if that means finding her without King Robert's permission, then so be it."

"Are you talking about mommy?" Nate asked as he finished drawing in the sand, and approached them, stick in hand. Jon nodded.

"Aye, Nate, we're talking about mommy. Why?"

The look in Nate's eyes when he addressed his father was pure and utter Stark, making Jon almost proud in the fact that his son was most likely going to inherit the throne of Winterfell one day. "Get her back, da . . . you get her back to us with everything in your power to do so." Lark nodded firmly in agreement, and Robb smiled a small smile.

"I'll start getting the soldiers ready, shan't I?"


	34. Chapter 33

**Oh my God, this is the last chapter! I never wanted to believe that it would get here this quick, but here is it. It was a little hard to write and quite frankly, I'm not really happy with how I wrote it, but I like how I ended it. There will be another chapter, the Epilogue that will have all my final shout-outs and other red tape to tie up, but yep . . . this story is quickly coming to a close :(**

**Anyway, read and review and enjoy!**

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><p><em>Gabrielle Snow's POV . . .<em>

It had all happened so fast.

One moment, she had been sitting there underneath the oak tree with Gwyneth, helping her into the torn remnants of her dress, and the next, they were running for a horse. Gabrielle swung up onto the stallion's bare back, pulling Gwyneth up behind her, and they were galloping through the woods, leaning low over the stallion's neck to keep from getting slapped in the face by branches.

The surprised, shocked yells of their captors had been behind them when they first attempted their escape and soon, they had lost their voices. They were alone in the woods, and Gabrielle slowed the stallion to a brisk trot as they caught their breath. Gabrielle's heart pounded in her chest, causing her to gasp for breath. Gwyneth was shaking behind her, her arms tight around her waist. Gabrielle had grown up on the back of a horse, and her Dothraki roots held the blood of countless men and women who had been born on the backs of horses. She was a natural horsewoman, something she could not say about Gwyneth. The poor girl was shaking from their chaotic, sudden escape on horseback.

"You okay, Gwyn?" Gabrielle asked breathlessly as she steered the horse around a fallen tree. The stallion's neck was arched beautifully, his mouth foaming and his gate high and prance-like. Gabrielle wouldn't have been surprised if she had just _happened_ to have grabbed Jaime's expensive warhorse.

Gwyneth's trembling suddenly intensified behind her, and Gabrielle's heart started pounding in her chest again. "Gwyn . . . Gwyn, are you alright?" She asked in alarm, and she felt Gwyn shake her head.

"Gabi . . . Gabi, I'm bleeding . . . and my stomach hurts . . . I feel like I have cramps . . ." She spoke in-between harsh breathes, and Gabrielle made to stop the horse so they could dismount and find out what was wrong with Gwyneth, but they soon heard the shouts and cursing words of Jaime and his boys behind them. Gabrielle swore underneath her breath in Dothraki.

"_Szar! _I'm sorry, Gwyn, but hold on, I've got to lose these bastards again!" She warned her before she kicked her horse in the sides. The stallion gave a snort and a powerful shake of his head before he jumped into a fast, battleground gallop, leaping over fallen locks and stepping nimbly over rocks and high patches of grass that could expertly cover a hole in the ground. Gwyneth was moaning in pain behind her sister-in-law, and Gabrielle swore again when the stallion burst out of the woods and onto a long stretch of meadow. Now on free, level ground, the gate of the stallion grew faster, more powerful, and Gabrielle bent low, urging him on faster.

They had lost most of the men, but one was hot on her heels.

Jaime could certainly ride a horse.

"Come on, Goddamn you!" Gabrielle roared as she urged her horse on faster, but it was tiring and starting to lag behind. Soon, Jaime had caught up with her, steering his warhorse up to hers, where he grabbed her reins, forcing the stallion to jump to a stop. Breathing impossibly hard, Jaime bent over, desperate to catch his breath. Gabrielle could only do the same.

Jaime grinned and laughed. "You can certainly ride, my Dothraki Princess . . ." He gasped, grinning. "Gods, you should enter a joust one tourney!"

Gabrielle shook her head. "Why wouldn't you just let me go, Jaime?" She asked him coldly, struggling for breath as well.

"I couldn't let you get lost, now could I?" He asked, laughing, and Gabrielle opened her mouth to retort, but suddenly, Gwyneth doubled over off the horse, groaning in pain, her body folding in on itself in the form of the fetal position, her arms wrapped around her stomach as blood flowed freely down from in-between her thighs.

Gabrielle let out a shriek and dropped down from the stallion, moving to fall to knees beside Gwyneth. After observing her for a moment, she turned to glare at Jaime.

"I hope you feel good about yourself, Jaime!" She snapped. "She's losing her baby!"

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><p><em>Jon Snow's POV . . .<em>

As soon as he saw Gwyneth fall from her horse and double over in pain, Robb's eyes blurred with red. When Jon saw Gabrielle fall from the horse and run to kneel beside Gwyneth, other men on horseback galloping from the nearby woods behind them, he didn't wait. He didn't hesitate. He spurred his horse in the sides and with Robb and their men galloping behind them, he made his way for the three figured in the middle of the meadow.

He roared Gabrielle's name over the thundering of the horse's hooves against the greenness of the meadow grass, and her head shot up to see who had yelled for her. The look on her face when she saw was Jon was a look of pure, utter relief. She yelled his name back and as Robb and their men clashed with Jaime's men thundering out of the woods, Jon clashed with Jaime. He launched himself from his saddle, all of his weight thudding into Jaime, who gasped for breath as he was thrown from his horse. Both men landed on the ground a few feet away from Gabrielle and Gwyneth, punching and rolling in their quest to slit the other's throat or bury a dagger in their heart.

"I'll kill you, you bastard!" Jon spat through gritted teeth and Jaime grinned, his teeth bloody from where Jon had punched him upon impact with the ground.

"Not if I kill you first . . . _bastard_!"

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><p><em>Gabrielle Snow's POV . . .<em>

"Gwyn! Gwyn, stay with me, help has come!" Gabrielle assured her as he drew a lock of damp, dark brown hair out of the younger woman's face. Her features were contorted in the pain of losing her first child and she groaned in pain, her arms clenched around her stomach.

"Robb . . . is Robb here, Gabi?" Gwyneth asked in pain, and Gabrielle immediately scanned the battlefield looking for the bright auburn hair of Robb Stark among the men of Lannister red and gold or the Kingsguard gold and white. She found him riding a magnificent chestnut charger towards them, his sword bloody.

"Gabrielle, what is wrong with Gwyn?" He asked, yelling over the sounds of battle, and Gabrielle gazed up at him mournfully.

"I'm sorry, Robb! She . . . she was raped by Gerrick and now she's . . . now she's losing your baby! I- I can't do nothing about it!" She shouted back at him helplessly, mournfully, and Robb swore loudly before he turned his horse around on his haunches and launched back into battle, his sword swinging, trying to sink home in the torso of any man named Gerrick. She called Robb's name, begged him to come back, to not do anything stupid, but he didn't hear her. He was overcome in rage and bloodlust, and when Jon finally was able to knock out Jaime, he stumbled over to them and kneeled down beside her, where he took her into his arms, hugging her tightly.

"Oh Gods, Gabrielle, are you okay?" He asked in alarm, and Gabrielle nodded.

"I-I'm fine, Jon! It's-it's Gwyn, Jon! She was raped by Gerrick and now . . . now she's losing her and Robb's baby! I-I don't know what to do!" She ended up sobbing into his chest, all her fears and sorrows pouring out of her body in the form of tears into his chest. Jon gently pushed her away.

"Gabi, you have _got _to pull yourself together! We are here now; we are not going to let anything hurt you! We have to . . . we have to be sure Gwyn is protected!" He told her, and Gabrielle nodded as she moved behind Gwyneth, gently allowing her to rest her head in her lap. She smoothed her hair out of her face, wiping the sweat from her face as she lay there in pain, as the battle around them slowly dulled to a stop, and the men of Winterfell stood supreme.

It was then that Robb's trotted over to them and dismounted from his horse. He all but ran over to them, but slowed to a stop when he saw Gwyneth and Gabrielle kneeling and laying there, blood between Gwyneth's thighs and Gabrielle sitting behind her, Gwyneth's head on her lap. Jon stood not far away, ensuring that they were protected, and Gabrielle lifted her head to gaze at Robb.

"Robb, did you . . .?" She asked, and Robb nodded, dropping the severed head of Gerrick in front of them.

"He died a pig's death." He spoke tersely, and Gabrielle nodded, her face grave and solemn.

"Good . . . although it was more than that bastard deserved.

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><p><em>Gabrielle Snow's POV (cont.) . . .<em>

They had returned to Winterfell a week later, Jaime in chains behind them, and when they arrived, the first thing Gabrielle did was hug her children. She hugged them tightly, not willing to ever let them go again. Gwyneth was immediately taken up to the quarters she shared with Robb, to be tended by Maester Luwin, and Jaime was sent down into the dungeons until they were given word as to what was to be done with him.

It didn't take long.

A few weeks after they returned to Winterfell from the bloody battle, a courtier dressed in the Baratheon colors, arrived baring orders from the King. Jaime was to be escorted back to King's Landing with the courtier and his soldiers, much to the spitting fury of Jon and especially Robb. Gwyneth had indeed lost the child she had been carrying, even though Maester Luwin had done everything in his power to stop it.

Jaime had left Winterfell without a glance back towards the large, imposing castle, making Gabrielle, Robb and Jon feel like they had done all that, just for nothing. Thanks to the influence of Queen Cersei, Jaime would go free, they had no doubt, and they would have to watch their backs for a dagger on a daily basis from then on out. But until they arrived back in King's Landing, peace had come back to Winterfell.

True to the events that happened – and much to Catelyn's chagrin – Gabrielle and Gwyneth became firm friends, their loyalty absolute since the events that had transpired in the unknown woods a week later. She and Robb kept trying for a baby until at last – two miscarriages later – Gwyneth finally became with child again. And true to Gabrielle's dream, she was with child again too – a child she knew would be a boy and that they would name Benjen, in honor of the man who had made her marriage with Jon possible.

They all knew that things could only get worse in both Winterfell and King's Landing – for Winter was Coming, but until then . . . until then, things were almost normal.

* * *

><p><em>Sula's POV . . .<em>

Varterral's massive hooves kicked up dust as Sula trotted him up to Daenerys riding at the head of their small _Khalasar_, riding her Silver mare, her bald head gleaming in the bright desert sunlight. She passed by emancipated men, women and children begging her for both food and water, although she had none to give them. She had none to give to her own children – her Braska and Temujin – for when Quotho left them with half of her dead brother's massive _Khalasar_; he left behind her and their children, taking the food and water with them.

He had told her he loved her . . . but that had been all a lie.

Daenarys's handmaidens and other Bloodriders rode with her, along with Sula's sons riding their chestnut ponies, the ponies that had been bred from their father's own massive warhorse and which reminded her so much of Mars. She rode up next to her _Khaleesi_ and bowed her head.

"_Khaleesi,_ five more people have died! They lay in the sand behind us, mere fodder for scavenging coyotes and vultures! I beg you, allow us to turn around! We will all die before we reach where you have seen in your dreams!" Daenerys shook her head.

"If we turn back, Sula, we all die! The other _Khalasars _will pick us off one by one until we are nothing! Until we both are wives to another man, until your sons are slaves to these men we would be forced to marry!" She told her friend and sister-in-law gently, and Sula sighed.

"_Khaleesi,_ I have no food or water to give to my sons! They cry in their sleep for relief from the Sky Father, but yet, it does not come to them! I beg you, _let us turn around_! We can but find Quotho's _Khalasar_; I know he would take pity on us! I love him and I know he loves me! He will take us in, he will protect us!"

Daenerys didn't answer her friend and Sula forced herself to turn away her head, so that Daenerys could not see the bitter tears that rolled down her cheeks. They stung when they hit the trails of past tears – the tears she shed when Quotho left them, when her brother died in the worst way a Dothraki could go . . . unable to ride his horse.

"Have faith, Sula, please!" Daenerys begged her quietly. "You know I will not allow you to die!" Sula shook her head.

"My children will not die, _Khaleesi_." She spoke bitterly before she barked orders at her sons and turned her horse around, where she marched off in the opposite direction, her sons and half the small _Khalasar _at her back. Daenerys watched her friend and sister-in-law go, sorrow filling her heart and when she heard Ser Jorah draw his sword, Daenerys shook her head.

"No, let them go, Jorah . . . I will not beg them to stay, for I know Sula. She will find her husband again, and like I never will, she will love him and bare him children and ride his horses until her dying day. Our paths are not the same any longer and I shall not keep her even if I tried." She told him, and Ser Jorah nodded as he sheathed his sword. She called Sula's name, and the woman stopped her horse and turned around. She trotted over to her sister-in-law, where she gently untied a purple ribbon from around her wrist and tied it at the end of Sula's braid.

"May you always remember me, my friend?" Daenerys begged her, and Sula smiled tightly as she hugged Daenerys tightly.

"It would be impossible, _Khaleesi_!" She spoke tearfully, and the two friends broke apart, where Daenerys smiled a small, teary smile.

"Do what I could not, Sula. Find your husband, protect him . . . and love him always." Sula nodded.

"My next child . . . my daughter . . . I will name for you." Sula promised her, and Daenerys smiled and swallowed heavily.

"I wish I could say the same."

The two women smiled tearfully at each other before Sula clicked her tongue and led her sons and other followers away from the tiny _Khalasar_ led by Daenerys Targaryen. The silver-haired woman watched her go, her dragons roaring in the distance with Jorah and her handmaidens and other Bloodriders, knowing that they would meet again one day.


	35. Epilogue

**I think I'm seriously going to cry. Last chapter of one of my most rewarding fanfictions, I almost don't want to stop it XD. But, however, I have other fanfictions that are positively "demanding" my attention and I feel like I have wrung every last drop from this fanfiction that I could have possibly wrung from it. I can truly say that this one is one of my babies and whether or not I continue Gabrielle and Jon is up in air, although I am currently in talks with Rosie-Everdeen-Potter about allowing her to use Gabrielle and Gwyneth in a story of her own. So, in a way, Gabrielle and Gwyneth's stories have yet to come to an end :)**

**I would like to extend my sincerest love and thanks to the fallowing fans for their much adored, much needed reviews. Without you guys, I probably would not have even completed this fanfiction and it probably would have ended up in the junk bin: Rosie-Everdeen-Potter, o0FLAM3s0o, x XRoweenaJAugustineX x, shippolove844, and especially Dark Alana, who deserves a special consideration, for without her badgering e-mails telling me to update and her gemstones of ideas having to do with what should happen next, this story would never have been completed. I love you, girl, and good luck with your own stories! **

**As for other stories, I do plan on writing a few more Game of Thrones fanfictions, for those of you who are interested. I fell in love with the character of Sula and I feel like I could have done more with her, so chances are, I will write a fanfiction from her perspective taking off from where I left her in the last chapter. I plan on writing two more than may or may not end up the Ice and Fire category of the book section that has to do with Beric DondarrionxJeyne Poole and then one having to deal with my OC Female character in the Vale with the Arryns. So, add me as an author alert if you haven't done so, so that you know if I ever upload another Game of Thrones or Ice and Fire fanfiction, you'll know. **

**Again, this has been a fabulous ride, I love you all and I have come to deeply adore both this fanfiction and you all!**

**- Love you all, and good luck with your own writings! Nagiana**

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><p><em>Five months later . . .<em>

Gabrielle let out a yelp at the warmth of the hot spring water and Jon grinned as he tied their horses and ponies to a couple nearby trees, glancing off into another direction at the sounds of Nate, Lark and Ned playing with Ghost, the direwolf loping alongside them, its red eyes alight with happiness and mirth, grins of excitement and joy on the children's.

Jon turned to Gabrielle and saw that she had already stripped and was cautiously making her way into the warm, almost scalding hot water. He smiled lovingly as he watched her. It had been five months since he and Robb and their father's soldiers had rescued her and Gwyneth from the clutches of Jaime and Gerrick, and already, she seemed happier – the both of them seemed happier. Gwyneth was pregnant with her and Robb's soon-to-be first child and this one showed no signs of miscarrying. Laughter returned to their throats and a smile oftentimes graced their features, although seldom a grin. And likewise, it was as if a certain light had returned to Winterfell, one that had long been extinguished since Gabrielle and Gwyneth were kidnapped in King's Landing by Jaime and Gerrick.

Gabrielle turned slightly to the side to dip a bare foot into the water, and he saw her slightly protruding stomach and found himself grinning at the thought of the child that was held within, _his _child.

Gabrielle turned her head to gaze at him, tossing her long mane of glossy midnight black hair as she did so. A rare grin lit up her face when she saw her husband gazing at her in longing.

"Your body betrays your mind, husband . . ." She spoke slyly as she nodded to the tightening of his breeches, and Jon grinned and inclined his head in playful respect to her.

"It is not every day that a man sees his wife turn into a beautiful water nymph before his very eyes . . ." He told her and Gabrielle grinned wider as she slowly sank down into the steaming water, her bare breasts bobbing for a moment before she disappeared underneath the inky black water, reappearing a moment later in the middle of the spring with her hair slicked back against her head and her body dripping. She swam to the edge nearest him and leaned upon the rocky bank, gazing at him slyly.

She had never looked more radiant to him than at that moment, her hair, free of its braid and tinkling silver bells for a moment, loose and wet around her face, her eyes sly, mysterious and desirous in the bright light. Her ruby colored lips parted in another sly grin. He knew then that he would never find another woman like her, as beautiful, as kind-hearted and intelligent as she. He knew he would never love another woman as he had loved her.

"They say that these waters in the Godswood of Winterfell are blessed . . ." Gabrielle spoke causally, and Jon grinned again.

"They are, are they?" He asked, his eyes twinkling in the light, and Gabrielle nodded.

"Yes . . . they are said to ensure a healthy child . . ."

Jon's grin grew wider. With an eye on the children to make sure they weren't watching and were distracted by each other and the direwolf, Jon stripped and gingerly lowered himself down into the hot-spring with her. He slid under water and reappeared, his hair slicked back like hers, and he grinned as he pinned her against the bank, kissing her gently.

"And what do we have to do to ensure that this blessing is bestowed upon us?" He asked teasingly, and Gabrielle grinned.

"Oh, I think you know, Lord Stark . . ." She whispered, and he grinned.

"I told you, it's not final yet. Technically, I'm still Lord Snow." Gabrielle shook her head.

"But soon, you will be Lord Stark, I Lady Stark, and our children legitimate Starks with claims to the throne . . . I find I rather like the sound of that." She whispered, and Jon grinned.

"I thought you might . . ." He whispered as he kissed her again, both of them knowing deep in their hearts that Winter was indeed coming, but that they could do anything if they were together. Jaime had taught her that much.


End file.
